


Weeds

by ThirdRateDuelist



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, With A Twist, and a fuck ton of plant imagery, may or may not be dsod compliant idk i havent seen it, or enemies and friends and lovers all kind of oscilating in level all at the same time, who also arent friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 68,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdRateDuelist/pseuds/ThirdRateDuelist
Summary: “Sotheseawards," Jounouchi indicated, "are for Duel Monsters, andthese," he waved his hand again, "are for KaibaCorp shit, but what arethese?"After a beat, Kaiba answered. "Recognition of philanthropic work, from the Domino Youth Organisation, HandsOn, and the Hanahaki Research Foundation."At the mention of the third, Jounouchi forced himself not to still. "Hanahaki, huh."After a chance meeting turns into a hook-up, Jounouchi suggests to Kaiba they make it a regular thing—no muss, no fuss, no feelings. Kaiba agrees.
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler & Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto
Comments: 115
Kudos: 156





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> not me starting Another big ass slow burn fic before ive even finished the series

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time in the future.

Jounouchi is dragged from sleep by the sound of coughing. 

There are other sounds, too, although nothing from the street can reach this high up: the pattering of rain on the wide, wide window behind the translucent curtain; the ever-present hum of the air conditioning; the snores of the tortoiseshell cat curled up on one of the many pillows, entirely too loud for such a small animal. But it's the coughing that does it, hooking little claws into Jounouchi's skin, every hack a tug on his eyelids, dragging him from a sleep he usually cannot be woken from. It stumbles in through the slim gap between the door and frame to the en suite, spitting and pulsing around the room rendered grayscale by the dark, billowing over the rumpled bed sheets which show a swirling of absence where Kaiba's body was. 

It's the first time since _the_ first time that they've shared the bed for the night, so Jounouchi isn't sure what the protocol is. Despite the distance between their homes, he had whole-heartedly agreed with Kaiba’s rule of him leaving afterwards when they’d started fucking. He hadn't intended to stay this time either, but, well. This time was—unusual. Jounouchi still can't quite process any of it.

Kaiba's sheets feel smooth despite the wrinkling. Jounouchi forces himself to relax and runs his hands over the soft fabric. They probably have a thread count higher than his paycheck. Still warm too. Jounouchi tries to wriggle deeper into the mattress. There's a gentle ache settling into the muscles he isn't used to using like he had a few hours ago, and a cold feeling along his front from the absence of something that he'd been wrapped around until a few minutes ago. He's not used to that either. 

There's plenty of room in Kaiba's bed, enough that they don't have to touch when their breath evens out again if they don't want to. Kaiba always recoils afterwards, and maybe recoils is the wrong word—it feels too violent, too laced with disgust, and surprisingly neither of those apply—but retreat doesn't fit either. _Disengages_ , that's the word. Kaiba disengages, mechanical and steady.

Except for when he doesn't. Jounouchi can still feel the phantom weight of an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Still, it's just sex. Pretty fucking amazing sex, but nothing else. Jounouchi had thought that part weird at first. When he'd thought (or rather fantasized, with embarrassing frequency) about fucking Kaiba when he was younger, Jounouchi's mental scenes had been explosive. They'd be arguing in each other's faces, of course, then their lips would meet. Then there'd be clothes ripping, hair grabbing, Kaiba shoving him against a wall—you know, the works. Passion and fury and not much in the way of lube. What Kaiba used to imagine, Jounouchi has never asked. He knows the answer is nothing at all—nothing involving Jounouchi anyway. 

He wonders if his younger self would find reality disappointing. His current self doesn't—not for those reasons, at least. Kaiba's better than most. Attentive, even if it's just a side effect of his control freak tendencies. Uusually rough and commanding too, with a mild sadistic streak that leans more towards carefully denying sensation than inflicting too much of it, something Jounouchi had never given much thought to before but has quickly found _really_ works for him. But Jounouchi knows better than to expect more than impartial hookups, which works out because he really doesn’t want anything more. Kaiba’s not nearly as much of an asshole as he used to be, sure, but that doesn’t say much. He’s still a stuck up bastard. Call him prideful, but Jounouchi kinda likes it when people give him just a little bit of respect. 

Jounouchi also knows how Kaiba can get when he _does_ care. No strings attached is better for them both. It’s what he’s told Kaiba from the start, and it’s what they've agreed on. Kaiba’s reasons are more along the lines of not giving a shit about Jounouchi, but hey, that’s what works. And Jounouchi's fine with that. Really, he's fine. There had been one brief, terrifying, moment where Jounouchi had thought maybe they could have been something more. Kaiba had quickly set him to rights, and the relief had stung, but it was still relief. 

A resurgence in coughing drags Jounouchi out of his thoughts and informs him that no, he’s not going to get back to sleep any time soon. One time, Kaiba had picked up some bug in America and they'd had to cancel, and Jounouchi had asked how he was the next time they’d met. Kaiba had responded by dismissing the concern and asking if Jounouchi didn’t want to just get on with it. He probably won't welcome the concern now either, but he sounds awful. 

There's a gnawing feeling in Jounouchi's stomach, as if there's a little black hole in there slowly sucking his insides into non-existence. He tells himself not to be stupid. 

"You okay?" Jounouchi calls out nervously.

Rather than mock him for the dumb question, Kaiba just coughs even harder, and the black hole grows even more ravenous. Heartbeat picking up a nervous tremor, Jounouchi heaves himself from the bed, wrapping the enormous duvet around himself as he goes. The apartment is cooler than Jounouchi would like it to be—Kaiba always has the air conditioning far too low, hating the feeling of sweat, Jounouchi knows—and besides, having the long, heavy cover dragging behind him makes him feel like an intrepid explorer, fur coat against the snow. There's enough space for him to trail it around too. 

Hiking to the bathroom with little in the way of quiet grace, Jounouchi knocks to announce his imminent arrival. He hears Kaiba's rough, weak, " _don't_ " and ignores it in favour of bracing, opening the door, and flicking the light on. 

The first thing he sees is Kaiba's face adjusting itself into a furious, accusatory snarl. The second is the mucus and the blood on his lip, a deeper red than the rings around his eyes. Jounouchi doesn't quite manage seeing the third thing properly before Kaiba shoves him out of the room and slams the door in his face, but he sees enough. A flash of colour in the sink and the faint smell of freshly cut grass. He doesn't need a better look to know. 

Jounouchi feels his insides be sucked out of him in a slick rush of vacuum. Not all of them go—his lungs stay, suspended above the absence, and his heart too, wrapped and crushed by each intake of breath. But everything below is gone, leaving only a hot black void of numb shock. 

The rain continues its rhythmic march on the windowpane, and the cat continues to wheeze to her own slower tempo, but they're both just accompaniment to the discordant tune of Kaiba coughing up flowers in his sink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :Oc


	2. Make Hay While The Sun Sets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _To make hay while the sun shines_ • To take advantage of favorable conditions; to make the most of an opportunity when it is available.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Jounouchi literally bumps into Kaiba. He pretty much works on instinct from there.

It was a beautiful night in Domino City. The sky was just the perfect shade of smouldering orange; the playful March air was cool enough for a jacket and all the useful pockets that came with it; the rippling ocean of cars honking and people laughing splashed up against neon lights just coming into brilliance, the city simmering with electric possibility. 

It _was_ a beautiful night in Domino City, but then Jounouchi got stood up. 

Not a big deal, really, even if it was annoying. Didn't know the guy well enough to give a shit on a personal level. But it had been a while since Jounouchi had gotten any, and he’d kinda been anticipating that any blowing happening would be of the _job_ kind, not the off kind, so when his phone lit up with the apologetic text—complete with a sad face—he thunked his head on the bar once, twice, three times, and groaned loud enough that the woman sitting three stools down wrinkled her nose at him. He hadn’t even touched a drop. 

It was a shitty night in Domino City. The sky was a gross shade of gritty orange; Jounouchi’s jacket was too tight to be comfortable even without the zip done up, so he took it off and immediately felt cold; the fetid tide of blaring car horns and people shrieking and yelling slapped against neon lights too harsh for the eyes, headache-inducing if looked at for too long. 

Despite all this, Jounouchi rebelled against the idea of retreating home. The establishment his flakey date had selected perched on the edge of downtown, in the small residential borderlands with the third noisiest metro tracks in the city rattling through, just a few blocks from where the buildings started to morph and rise into the glass-paneled business district. The kind of area that was cheap enough for a second date for someone with a decent salary, expensive enough that Jounouchi wouldn’t’ve picked it himself. This left him standing on the frontier when he huffed out of the bar he could technically afford, but didn't really want to be in anyway. The shelves were way too neat. 

_Ugh_. What an asshole, bailing on him so late. It was the principal of the thing more than anything else. Like, at least cancel earlier. It was just fucking rude, he _had_ to have known he wouldn't make it earlier than when he was already two minutes late. Dickhead. Bastard. Fucker. Jounouchi had bought condoms, and for _what?_

Setting off in a frustrated wander, Jounouchi narrowly avoided elbows and contemplated his options. Hitting up strangers was too risky despite the temptation, and he sure as fuck wasn’t drinking by himself, so bars were out. The only film he was interested in seeing he’d promised to catch with Yuugi, so that was out too. Yuugi himself, and the rest of his friends in Domino, Jounouchi didn’t feel like bothering with a last minute hang. They were probably all busy. Everyone was so busy now, with work, with partners. Jounouchi himself was even guilty of the former. The latter, not so much. 

It was times like this, small in the jostling crowd of the city, that Jounouchi felt a twinge of longing for the giddy chaos of his teenage years. Even when he'd ran with the gang, lashing out at the world with bloody knuckles, his misery had company. He knew, logically, that he didn't really want to go back to that, but _fuck_ if it hadn't all given him a rush. Then there had been Yuugi and Duel Monsters and sure, there had been the frequent threats of death and mind control and yadda yadda yadda, but there had been moments he'd felt so much bigger than he'd ever felt before, so much stronger. He hadn't been bored. He hadn't been alone. 

He _had_ been hormonally frustrated though, so it wasn't like everything had changed. And he wasn't alone now, really. He still saw Yuugi, talked to the others, had other friends. Got high with Ryuzaki sometimes. It was enough. Should've been enough, anyway, and he felt guilty when it wasn't. 

The buildings around him began to rocket into the sky with a sterile severity, the people becoming less interestingly dressed and more preoccupied with holding their airpods in as they walked and talked. Jounouchi vaguely noted he was meandering further and further into salaryman territory. Logos and big names loomed down at him from either side of the road: UCC, Nintendo, and further down Jounouchi could see the wingtip of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon that curled around the peak of KaibaCorp HQ, just poking out of the square the tower had all to itself. Kaiba had always taken up so much damn space, but hell if he hadn't known how to utilise it for maximum dramatic effect. Maybe Jounouchi could go poke at him, for old time's sake. _Hey rich-boy_ , _been a while._ _Got that stick out your ass yet?_

Nah. He'd get thrown from the building in seconds. Not like they'd ever really been friends. 

In the den of towering glass and ambivalence, the familiar dull stripes of a 7-Eleven were a comforting bandage. Well, at least he could grab a snack for the metro ride home. Almost getting mown down by a particularly inconsiderate businesswoman, Jounouchi ambled into the convenience store after a second of glaring and began to browse, bobbing his head slightly to the vaguely familiar pop tune on the speaker. The shelves were stocked with fancier brands than Jounouchi was used to seeing, and unlike his local convenience stores it had an actual cheese section. Jounouchi pulled his jacket back on to keep out the refrigerated chill as he marveled at it. 

Fighting the primal urge to just buy the biggest, cheapest chunk of cheese they had and gnaw on it, Jounouchi scratched absentmindedly at his head as he slowly wandered down the aisle, until something even better caught his eye. Vision narrowing as he homed in on the dessert section, Jounouchi snatched a slice of cheesecake off the shelf, whistled a little _item got!_ jingle to himself, and stood back right into another customer. 

“Shit," he yelped as he stumbled away and whirled around. "Sorry man— _Kaiba?_ ” 

The slightly off-balance man stared back down at him as he righted himself, shock etched into his frozen, familiar features. It had been a few years, more than a few years, and his smug mug wasn’t constantly plastered over every screen in the city anymore, but he was still unmistakable. Jounouchi would’ve liked to think that he was unmistakable too, but Kaiba showed no sign of anything but startled surprise.

Kaiba's face wasn't quite the same, although Jounouchi couldn't pinpoint the exact change. Less feverish, maybe. Less like he lived on straight coffee beans and slept three hours a year. His hair was shorter at the back, messier in that carefully cultivated way, but it was still the same chestnut brown. He still had that same pale complexion and the same unrelenting glare; the hard, dark blue of tempered steel that Jounouchi had to crane slightly to meet. Raking his own eyes up that towering, tree-like form, Jounouchi found he still felt slightly heated by the mere flicker of Kaiba's eyelids, the tiniest furrow of his immaculately maintained brows. 

All in all, Kaiba looked fine.

And he wasn't saying a word, not even yelling at Jounouchi for walking his dumb ass right into him. Maybe he didn't recognise him. The thought stung.

“It’s me,” Jounouchi informed him for good measure, hand coming round instinctively to tap himself in the chest. “Jounou-”

“I _know_ ,” Kaiba cut across him in that deep, rumbling voice, blue eyes still staring right at him. 

It was almost overwhelming, to have Kaiba looking at him after all these years, and Jounouchi warmed under the unfamiliar attention. But some things clearly didn't change—it was reassuring to know that Kaiba was still a bit of a dick. "Just testing I hadn't shorted your circuits," he snorted with a roll of his eyes. "S'good to see you still ain't found any manners."

"Nor has time sharpened your singular wit," Kaiba responded without missing even a fraction of a beat. Immediately after the words left his mouth, he blinked rapidly, and Jounouchi watched as Kaiba began moving again, as if in slow motion, readjusting his long grey coat. Shit, was he going to leave? Just like that? 

Before Jounouchi could think about it, he had grabbed Kaiba’s arm. "Let's get a drink," he blurted out. "Right now."

Leaving would mean out of Jounouchi's eyesight, out of his life once more, and suddenly the idea was unthinkable. Thirty seconds of strange, exhilarating, awfully awkward eye contact wasn’t enough. Jounouchi needed at least sixty. 

“And _I'm_ the one lacking in manners,” Kaiba commented, retracting his arm back with a forceful tug. 

"Yeah," Jounouchi agreed. "But when it's me, it's charming. Drink?"

"Why?" Kaiba asked in a short, cutting syllable. 

“To catch up, dumbass,” Jounouchi replied, and offered what tried to be a winning smile, but felt entirely too nervous for that. “I ain't seen you in… don't know how many years."

"...Nine," Kaiba said after a pause of calculation. "Since Yuugi's twentieth."

"... _Shit_ , yeah." Jounouchi whistled. He let out a little laugh remembering the night—or rather, what he could of it. Six-person Ohajiki Duel Monsters, a fusion of games that involved a lot of flicking rocks at each other, had been chaotic enough without adding a drinking element. Kaiba, it turned out, had spectacular aim. "Nine years..." 

Had it really been _that_ long? Jounouchi's free hand wandered to run through his own hair—slightly shorter too, and a less violently yellow, more even shade of blonde now that he could spare money for toner to go over the bleach. He rocked back and forth on his heels, feeling flustered as Kaiba assessed him up and down, efficiently looking over his too-small leather jacket, uncomfortably tight jeans, lightly stubbled jaw. 

“And what was your original pursuit for the evening?” Kaiba asked blandly. 

“Was gonna go for drinks with someone else, but I got bailed on,” Jounouchi answered easily. "So, how about it? You, me, a few beers—well maybe not beer for you. I don't remember you being a beer guy. Are you a beer guy? Cause there's other stuff if you're—"

"I am aware of the existence of alcohols other than beer," Kaiba informed him with a sneer. His head didn't move, but his eyes flickered briefly to the door. 

"Right! So _not_ a deal breaker." Jounouchi turned the wattage on his smile up a notch. Kaiba hadn’t immediately said no, which was a good sign. Maybe Jounouchi's evening wouldn't be a total disappointment. The guy was an asshole, but he could still be entertaining. 

And maybe Jounouchi had missed him. Just a little.

Although he didn’t physically tilt his head in contemplation, Kaiba graced Jounouchi with a single blink of his smooth eyelids that amounted to the same thing. “Wait outside,” he finally commanded, and brushed past. 

Naturally, Jounouchi stayed with Kaiba for the entire process of buying nicotine patches—he had to pay for his cheesecake, after all. He didn’t comment, as much as he wanted to. The risk of Kaiba changing his mind was too great, and Jounouchi had yet to get over the fact that he had agreed to a drink in the first place. Neither of them said anything until they were out on the street, Jounouchi automatically leading Kaiba back in the direction he’d come from. The breeze had picked up just enough that Jounouchi would be grateful for a warming drink, and it fluttered Kaiba’s coat around his unfairly long legs. 

At least Kaiba's looming stature made people give them just a little more room on the sidewalk. Jounouchi ripped open his dessert and took a hefty bite. " _Mm!_ Tha's the good shit. You wan' some?" 

He didn't look up, but he was fairly sure he could hear the wrinkle in Kaiba's nose anyway. "Must you talk with your mouth full?" 

"Take that as a no. All the more for me," Jounouchi said happily, devouring another chunk. God, this was such a good idea. 

He nearly startled when it was Kaiba who started up the conversation again as the buildings beside them shrank and accumulated paper posters and graffiti. “This someone else of yours, a new acquaintance?”

Aw, he was actually trying to take an interest. Or at least fill the silence. “Kinda. Met once before, last week.”

“...” 

They passed by the bar Jounouchi had been waiting at. He was pretty sure he could do better than that. Or worse, from Kaiba's likely perspective. “Friend of a friend of a friend.”

"...” Kaiba repeated. 

Jounouchi did his best to look at him only from the corner of his eyes. “An' apparently he’s a shitty date.”

Kaiba’s steps didn’t falter, but Jounouchi thought he saw something flicker across that impassive marble face. “Or not-date, as it would seem.” 

“As it would seem,” Jounouchi snorted, and turned his eyes back to the path ahead. He was sure he’d passed something far more interesting looking in his search for the place earlier, something— “Down here.” He tugged lightly on Kaiba’s sleeve again to pull him down the side road that was really more of an alley, and towards the door beneath an overhanging sign that read _Bar Salt._ A slim window under a dusty red awning had price lists taped to face the potential customer. Jounouchi didn’t bother getting his glasses out to read them; the fact that they were unlaminated and printed in the tiniest font reassured him plenty. 

After giving Kaiba an over-the-top bow with many whirlings of his hand as he held the door for him, Jounouchi let it squeak shut and followed his companion through the long, thin room. Thankfully, the shelves behind the bar were as cluttered as they came. The ceiling hung low and the lighting even lower; blue, purple, and pink glowing from recesses in the walls. Music too played on a low enough volume that only a steady, thrumming bassline could be heard under the voices of patrons chatting. Jounouchi could just make out that the walls were painted black under the thick layers of posters and papers of all kinds: drinks, films, bands, idols. There was even an old Battle City poster, plastered with Digimon stickers. Someone had stuck a wad of gum right in the center of the KaibaCorp logo.

Jounouchi grinned and elbowed the CEO of said company in the side to point it out, and Kaiba made a disgusted huff, removing his long grey coat as they made their way past the other patrons. The shirt and tie beneath it looked like fine material, but fairly nondescript. The little Blue-Eyes White Dragon tie clip however, sculpted in minute detail with a little glinting gemstone eye, was probably custom made for him.

Reaching the point where the bar curved back into the wall, Jounouchi plonked himself down. There, they could sit diagonal to each other. The idea of sitting directly across from each other at a table seemed too personal. Patting the stool next to his, Jounouchi had to yank his hand back before Kaiba sat on it. Perched neatly and entirely too tall on his seat, peering about the room with an accusative yet curious air, Kaiba reminded Jounouchi of one of those skinny, triangle-faced cats with enormous twitching ears; tail flicking in apprehension, nose wrinkled slightly as he assessed the dingy dive bar before checking his watch.

“This is not a regular haunt of yours,” Kaiba remarked after a few moments.

Attempting to get the nearest bartender’s attention, Jounouchi tried to shake off the weirdness of hanging out with the guy. “Nope. How’d you know?” he asked as he stretched up and waggled from side to side on a quest to make eye contact.

“I assumed that visiting a place you frequent would involve some manner of overenthusiastic greeting between you and the bartenders,” Kaiba said airily. “She’s ignoring you.”

“You'd call a nod an overenthusiastic greeting,” Jounouchi grumbled, and stopped metronoming. "You're such a dick."

“But not wrong.” Kaiba cleared his throat loudly. The bartender looked up, and came over to take their orders.

Watching her bustle away again, Jounouchi reflected that Kaiba’s manners were actually better than he was expecting. “At least you didn’t snap your fingers.”

"It is not entitlement to expect basic service."

"It is if you can't wait five seconds for it," Jounouchi retorted, folding his arms on the bar top. He was beginning to remember why he'd fantasized about punching Kaiba as much as anything else, and he had to make a concentrated effort to break his scowl to nod at the bartender when two bottles of Kirin were set before him. 

Kaiba was given a double whisky in a square glass, and he picked it up and swirled it, three ice cubes clinking in the liquid. "I specified neat," he mused as he eyed them with disdain. "Now it'll taste dull."

Rolling his eyes, Jounouchi took his first bottle and dragged his thumb nail over the mythical beast dancing across the beer label, feeling the condensation under his fingers. "Oh no, poor Kaiba, given a nice cold drink that won't completely kill his tastebuds. You'll just have to suffer." Jounouchi took a swig of beer, let out a sigh of appreciation for the bittersweet taste, and set the bottle back down on the bar top with a satisfying _clunk_. "So, moneybags," he said, turning to face his companion with a clap of his hands, "how's shit?"

Kaiba took a delicate sip of whiskey. "Shit's fine."

It took a bit of coaxing to get Kaiba to talk about anything other than the generic 'KaibaCorp is expanding' line. Really, Jounouchi was surprised the company hadn't swallowed the planet by now; although apparently with parks in Japan, USA, China, and potentially breaking Europe in Germany, it was getting there. Mokuba was leading the charge into foreign territory, and as much as Kaiba was tight lipped on his own personal life, it was the easiest thing in the world to get him talking about his little brother, some of which Jounouchi was certain he was pulling his leg with ("He's living in Berlin at the moment. Apparently it's amphibian migration season, so when he's done working for the day he helps at the toad fences." "...Toad fences?" "Yes, deadbeat, did I stutter?"). Getting into a competitive spirit, Jounouchi retaliated with factoids about his little sister with pride ("She's even made it into a few magazines—she was in _Asahi Camera_ two months ago!"). 

When Kaiba wasn't forthcoming, Jounouchi rambled about his own life: a brief and revised chronology of the adult life of Katsuya Jounouchi, a work in progress. He hadn't been able to pursue a dueling career in the end, that much Kaiba had already known, but Jounouchi took pride in informing him that _yes_ , he _had_ managed to go to college after all, even if a bit later than some. And _yes_ , he did get a degree, thank you, he didn't just turn up. 

"Think that gives me one up against your high-school drop out ass," Jounouchi said proudly. "Never thought ole deadbeat would have you beat on qualifications, did ya?" 

"I completed multiple bachelors as part of my training before I took over KaibaCorp," Kaiba corrected him loftily. 

Oh. "Your, uh, shitbag dad's training?" Jounouchi asked, sifting through vague memories of being trapped in a virtual reality where members of the Kaiba family yelled at each other for everyone around to hear. Jounouchi hadn't been privy to the details, but the gist had been enough to make guesses. "Goza-something. Gozabari?"

"Gozaburo. Although your description is apt." Kaiba took a long sip of his drink, and stared at the glass for a few moments with dull eyes. "I also hold two doctorates, although both are honorary."

"Ugh, those don't count," Jounouchi grumbled. "The hell'd you go to our high school for at all then? Not like you stayed." 

Kaiba didn’t answer, and acted as if he hadn’t registered the question. Perhaps it was too reasonable of a thing to ask about. Jounouchi tapped his fingers on the bartop. “So no college experience,” he commented.

This at least, Kaiba reacted to. "No. I had higher priorities than being kept up into the morning hours by the person next door watching dramas, and having dropouts attempt to sell me oregano," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Jounouchi frowned. "You should've gone just so you could've hated it properly. Hell, might've socialised you into being less of a tightass." 

" _Socialisation_ ," Kaiba said the word in the way a person holds someone else's used tissue, "was hardly a priority for me. You might say I went straight into the workforce."

While his tone was wry, Kaiba's expression had a lip wrinkle of envy about it, and Jounouchi felt a shred of sympathy flutter and wrap around his ribcage. Then he figured he was being stupid feeling sorry for him, because he sure as hell could've gone if he really wanted. "Yeah, I had to work myself. Bit less glamorous than running an international company though—don't know how much time you spend mopping floors and stacking shelves." Then a thought flashed through his mind. "Wait, doctorates—does that mean you're technically Dr. Kaiba? Ha!" Jounouchi slapped his hand on the bartop with a grin and adopted a stuffy voice. "Dr. Kaiba will see you now, Dr. Kaiba reporting to the E.R. Dr. Kaiba has diagnosed you with Weak Duelist Syndrome and prescribed you monthly shots of Git Gud."

Watching Jounouchi as he cackled, Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "You have some odd fantasies, mutt," he muttered. 

"Shuddup," Jounouchi told him, feeling a warmth make its way onto his cheeks. "I don't go in for that sexy hospital shit. Met way too many dickhead doctors for that." 

The sudden sound of glass smashing made Jounouchi jolt, distracting him for a few seconds as he twisted to see two drunk businessmen giggling and apologising profusely. Shaking his head, he slowly turned back to find Kaiba giving him an odd look, head slightly tilted, like Jounouchi had somehow turned into an optical illusion or a particularly difficult sudoku without himself noticing. 

Fidgeting under the attention, halfway through his second beer, Jounouchi fiddled with his many bracelets and watched as Kaiba neared the end of another double whisky, successfully neat. "That any good?" he asked lightly, as if he wasn't abruptly casting around for another topic. His eyes caught on Kaiba’s lower lip, slightly glistening from the alcohol. 

"It's acceptable enough to order twice, clearly," Kaiba answered, swirling the ice-free liquid, wrist flexing, glass caught like a sky lantern in the branches of his thin, pale, elegant fingers. Jounouchi couldn't think of the name of the tree they reminded him of. He'd seen it on some documentary; it'd had a stupid name. 

"I wanna try!" Jounouchi snatched the glass to take a gulp of his own. Swallowing it down, he experienced immediate regret. " _Pleugh_. Ugh. Not my thing."

Jounouchi slid the glass back to its owner, but before he could retract his hand, Kaiba's was there; fingers brushing against his own with a sudden, sharp tingling that flickered all the way up Jounouchi's arm. Kaiba took his glass back slowly, leaving a wet trail along the bartop where some of the whisky had escaped down the side of the glass. 

Then, in a flash, Kaiba plucked Jounouchi's beer from him and took a deep draught. He tilted his head back to drink and Jounouchi's indignant complaint died on his tongue, mouth hanging open slightly, watching the taut skin of his neck flex and ripple. 

When he finished, Kaiba set the bottle back down with a _clink_. " _Trash_ ," he said softly, and when Jounouchi found it in himself to look back at his eyes, they had a strangely amused glint in them. 

Jounouchi licked his lips, and fumbled for a few moments of false starts before successfully moving onto the topic of his job ("I'm supposed to get them to sell off anything deemed 'unnecessary luxury goods' before approving them but like, fuck that, like one shitty TV is gonna be what puts a guy on welfare…"), and getting Kaiba to talk about the running of an international company and the woes of being a famous face ("I have a fake ID I use for places such as this. Showing my real one frequently draws accusations of fraudulence, despite the fact that anyone with half a brain cell would recognise that someone seriously using a fake wouldn't pick a celebrity."). 

All the while they talked, Kaiba's eyes glinted from under his fringe, and the bar lights dripped onto his skin and shirt to stain him a deep, glowing blue. Even tailored as it was, the shirt was still a little looser than the turtlenecks Jounouchi used to find himself begrudgingly admiring, so now he had to content himself with imagining the exact outline of Kaiba's bare silhouette, the planes of his chest.

It might have been a few years, but Kaiba wasn't a stranger. And, as Jounouchi had observed earlier, he looked fine like he'd always looked fine. Better than fine. Really fucking _fine_.

Jounouchi's mouth was getting dryer and dryer, even as he finished off his third bottle in practically one gulp before ordering a chūhai. There was a curling heat growing in his belly; a winding, squirming thing that gnawed at the bones of its cage. He rambled on automatic, his mouth telling Kaiba all about nothing in particular while the man matched him drink for drink. Childishly, Jounouchi found himself trying to drink even faster in a fit of pique to try and 'beat' him somehow. Kaiba _always_ won, always towered over him, never had to spare a second glance or break a sweat. Jounouchi wondered what Kaiba would look like with sweat on his brow, his neck, catching in the hollow of his collarbone. What it would taste like.

It was so unfair; Kaiba had always looked stunning even when he'd had no right to. His dick was probably real nice too. Like, a good sized dick. The asshole had always worn such tight pants. Jounouchi had had to stop himself daydreaming about getting his mouth down there more than once at the sight of them.

Jounouchi didn't even realise he'd fallen silent until the man who had induced his reverie snapped those long, pale fingers right in front of his face. Repeatedly. 

"Dick," Jounouchi muttered, batting the hand away. 

"You appeared even more vacant than usual, I was merely expressing my concern," said Kaiba. In the time he had spent lost in fantasy, Kaiba had apparently finished off his glass. 

Irritated, Jounouchi responded by draining the rest of his can, aware of Kaiba watching him the whole time, blue eyes illegible under the dim lights. Shit, it was still weird to feel those eyes on him. Well, not like Kaiba had much else to look at. "I've had _three beers_ and a _chūhai,_ I'm not _drunk_ ," Jounouchi argued with a wave of his hand that knocked his empty can over.

"Did I accuse you of being drunk?" Kaiba drawled as Jounouchi ducked to the floor to grab the runaway can. "Mhm, I don't think I did."

Heaving back up, Jounouchi glared at his smug, smirking face. "Shut up! Just spaced out for a sec. Beer don't do that much for me anyway."

Kaiba shrugged, and Jounouchi barely registered his next words through his dry-mouthed astonishment at the easy roll of his shoulders. "Whisky does little for me either, but it provides a mildly relaxing burn."

Eyeing his relaxed movements and not-so-straight posture the best he could through his own mild haze, Jounouchi wasn't sure he believed him. "What _does_ get the great Seto Kaiba smashed then?" he prodded with an easy, languid finger jab into Kaiba's upper arm, marveling at the firm contact as the man jolted. Seto Kaiba, in the flesh. 

"There are a few things capable of the task, but…" Kaiba trailed off, either for dramatic effect or to consider the pros and cons of revealing such weaponisable information, "...white wine is the most effective."

"Me too!" Jounouchi grinned wide at the revelation. "Let's split a bottle some time. A big one. Bet you'd be funny hammered.” He propped one elbow up on the bartop, chin on his hand to steady himself as he admired the lines of Kaiba’s face; the sharpness of his cheekbones, the smooth sweep down of his nose. Snooty bastard had no business being so damn attractive. “Singing an' dancing,” he continued absentmindedly, “maybe even frolicking." 

It had been a while, and Jounouchi had been stood up, and now here he was drinking with Seto Kaiba. Fate. Destiny. 

Jounouchi leaned a little closer, and knocked on wood. “I’d like t’, uh,” he stumbled nervously, “see you frolicking?”

Giving him a long, long look through narrowed eyes, Kaiba's fingers tightened around his empty glass, reflexively going for another sip. No reeling back, no spluttering offence or jolt of shock, just those eyes glimmering under the low lights. The feeling of being scanned and scrutinised made Jounouchi's adrenaline spike, pulse gathering pace into a flailing run, each sprinting step thumping loudly against the walls of his arteries. 

"I was wondering," Kaiba murmured, "if that was your endgame."

Jounouchi blinked. "Huh?" 

But then Kaiba said, "I have some. At my apartment."

Jounouchi licked his lips. "How far?" 

"Twenty minute walk."

When a god closes a door they open a window, or some shit like that. Jounouchi wasn’t a huge fan of any god—had actual feuds with a few, fucking Ra and that big Orichalcos worm thing—but he sent a brief prayer to any others that might be listening, imagining tying a strip of paper to hang from the branch of Kaiba's arm. Jounouchi had always enjoyed tree climbing. That lightning possibility from when he'd been sitting at the other bar was back, only a thousand times heavier and hotter, and Jounouchi nodded vigorously as Kaiba got their bartender's attention and started settling his tab.

Jounouchi had almost forgotten they were in a bar in the first place, and the dimly lit room packed with patrons flickered back into being around him, like objects in a video game that had taken ages to load. Kaiba was the only thing that didn't shimmer.

After Jounouchi paid his own bill, standing up inspired an urgency to piss. The world rippled hazily as he wound his way into a men's room stall, too fuzzy for the usual niggling fear of getting yelled at for being in the ‘wrong’ place, heart pounding instead for entirely more exciting reasons. Although if this was going where he hoped it was going, he should probably actually mention he was trans before they actually got hot and heavy. Kaiba had never treated him like anything other than the guy he was, but he’d also never given Jounouchi so much as a second glance before, so it wasn't clear if that had been basic human decency or obliviousness.

Washing his hands and splashing water on his face, Jounouchi took a few seconds to hype himself up in the mirror with a few mouthed nonsense words and fist pumps, only to stumble, embarrassed, into some semblance of normalcy when another guy walked in and beelined for the urinals. 

Stumbling onto the giddy streets of downtown Domino at night to find it barely darker than it had been during the day, still flooded with people on the main road, Jounouchi was immediately caught off guard when he found Kaiba again—less by the fact that he was actually there, waiting for him (although that was a contributing factor), and more by what he was doing. 

Kaiba noticed him staring. “Yes, Jounouchi?” A little puff of cloud emitted along with the lofty word. It smelt like… roast chestnuts? That was a flavour you could get?

Of all things, Jounouchi decided to go with the logical question. “Why’d you bother with the patches then?”

“For the office,” Kaiba grumbled, taking another hit. “They do exceedingly little.”

Jounouchi nodded. “Yeah, I tried ‘em when I was quitting. Just got super vivid nightmares.” Watching Kaiba breath out another stream of thick, heavy vapour, Jounouchi couldn’t stop himself from sniggering any longer. “A fucking Blue-Eyes vape pen,” he sighed, watching in mild fascination as Kaiba put his lips to the little dragon’s mouth to take another hit. “Woe betide anyone who says Seto Kaiba won’t figure out a way to kiss a dragon.”

Kaiba blew vapour into his face. “Jealousy is an ugly trait.”

It was a bit stupid that despite everything, Jounouchi still felt himself blush. “Shut up."

Automatically turning to head back towards the throng, Jounouchi was stopped from walking towards the main street by a wordless hand on his shoulder that steered him the other way, fingers firm through the fabric of his shirt. The action made him feel a little dizzy. Jounouchi drank in the sight of Domino City around him, cluttered with people and neon and almost visible smells. What a beautiful night. 

Kaiba silently guided him back into the residential area, along the edge of where it became business until they reached a tower that was unassuming only because it was surrounded by its ilk; cuboid buildings of even divisions, each one a different height, each one asymmetrically tiled two-thirds white and one-third black. The split was interrupted by balconies and covered by carefully cultivated greenery. Apart from those climbing vines, it was a forest of tiles and glass and concrete, and Kaiba the only natural tree around. Being shown into the tallest tower, Jounouchi wasn’t surprised when Kaiba pressed the button for the penthouse. They started to move upwards, and the slight juddering of the floor made Jounouchi stumble and grab the handrail. 

Jounouchi focused on Kaiba’s mouth, on the smooth outline of his lips. Seemed like a decent enough focal point. "You do this often?" he asked. 

"Not here," Kaiba answered. 

Reaching the penthouse without even a soft _ding_ —which Jounouchi found extremely disconcerting—Kaiba unlocked the keypad door with only a little fumbling and twisted a dimmer switch, slowly revealing a large room beyond the entryway with a ceiling high enough to fit two stories. 

After tugging off his trainers without undoing the laces, Jounouchi burst through the doorway as if carried by water over a cliff edge, stumbling and spinning as he tried to pick something to focus on first. The dazzle of the large, square chandelier, air conditioned breeze making the dangling glass lines sway, caught Jounouchi's attention well enough that he startled when he bumped into the back of a couch. He heard Kaiba snort, and shot him an annoyed look which went completely missed as the guy walked off to a kitchen area under the overhanging second floor. 

Pouting to himself, Jounouchi gravitated towards one of the room’s several sets of shelves beneath an enormous television in the space between two tall windows, dark glass reflecting the room back at him. The large abstract artwork filling the space above the screen was nice, he guessed, and no doubt the books were intellectually stimulating stuff, but Jounouchi was more interested in the trophies and the other knick-knacks. There was a framed crayon drawing of a Blue-Eyes White Dragon placed proudly in the center of the ensemble. Squinting in an attempt to focus, Jounouchi just made out the wonky characters at the bottom as Mokuba's name. Cute.

He was still examining the shelves when he felt Kaiba's presence reappear beside him. "It's only an average sized bottle," Kaiba told him as he handed him a large glass. 

"Ugh, why am I even here," Jounouchi complained, watching as Kaiba turned and crouched at the low, cherry wood table to carefully pour his own with a face of utmost concentration. Then he examined the liquid in his own glass, glittering under the light. “I want a crazy straw.”

"Grow up.”

“Asshole."

There was the clink of glass on glass followed by an even more harmonious gulping. The two men made the mistake of eye contact, which of course meant they both had to down their glasses in one go. 

"Shit, this is like, actually nice," Jounouchi marvelled when they finished neck and neck, both at the pleasant taste and at the novelty of drinking wine from actual wine glasses. Kaiba hummed in response, and refilled them both before turning towards the cream coloured couch, but Jounouchi stopped him with a hand on his waist. "What are these?" he asked, lingering his fingers on Kaiba’s hip. 

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "They're awards, moron."

"I got _that_ part, but—so _these_ ," Jounouchi indicated, "are for Duel Monsters, and _these_ ," he waved his hand again, nearly spilling his wine, "are for KaibaCorp shit, but what are _these?"_ he finished with a flourish at a bottom shelf, the contents of which had no obvious connection that his fuzzy mind could see. There were a few plinths; a gold jigsaw puzzle, a bronze of a big hand and a small hand holding each other, and a glass rose. 

After a beat, Kaiba answered. "Recognition of philanthropic work, from the Domino Youth Organisation, HandsOn, and the Hanahaki Research Foundation."

At the mention of the third, Jounouchi forced himself not to still. "Hanahaki, huh." He took another, longer sip. 

It was a reflection of their evening that Kaiba was unguarded to the point Jounouchi could see it when he tensed up again. "It is a disease that famously eludes reason. While not common, it has debilitating effects on those who contract it, and they would be better served by a scientific understanding than the romanticising nonsense pervading common thought."

Right. Kaiba's refusal to believe in the magical, despite overwhelming evidence and first-hand experience. But over the years, Jounouchi had learned to pick his battles. This wasn't one that he wanted to be within a hundred mile radius of just then. "Hm," he said instead, and sipped, focusing the feeling of lightheaded floating lapping at his skull. 

"Really," Kaiba continued, derision in his tone, a slight sway in his body as he rested one elbow on one palm, "a disease from overwhelming unrequited love. It's _drivel_. And at some point, that'll be proven. They've already developed a drug that counteracts the symptoms."

Jounouchi couldn't keep himself from snorting. "What, weed killer?" He shook his head and walked to the couch, bouncing slightly as he plonked himself down. It had a soft, beige, plaid blanket thrown across it. Homely, Jounouchi thought, running his free hand over the fabric, and then his cheek, because why not. _Soft._ "Let's not talk about this. It's drying me up, and I don't mean sobering."

The feeling of floating in a warm ocean, bobbing up and down with the motions of the tide, only increased when Kaiba sploshed onto the couch next to him with a bounce of his own, long legs doing a little kick into the air with argyle-sock covered feet; close enough to touch, tall enough to lean over him, one long arm slung along the backrest a hair's breadth from Jounouchi's head. 

"Interesting choice of words, Jounouchi," Kaiba commented, warm breath puffing from his lips. 

"Can't exactly say it's killing my boner, can I?" Jounouchi countered. "Don't have a dick. Snooty rich-boy like you should appreciate my carefully chosen words." He stared Kaiba's vibrant eyes down over the rim of his glass. "Got a problem with that?" 

Kaiba blinked. "Not to worry, mutt," he said loftily. "I have enough for two."

Jounouchi spat out his last sip of wine. "Un- _fucking_ -believable." Giggling, he shook his head, and when he looked up, he thought he briefly saw a flash of teeth before Kaiba's lips pursed. Figured. Dumb fuck was laughing at his own stupid joke. "You're the worst. Seriously." 

Kaiba didn't look at all hurt by these attacks on his character as he set his empty glass on the table before leaning back again. They were so close Jounouchi felt it in his chest, reverberating all the way down to between his legs, sending ripples all around. "Well? Do you wish to judge yourself? Or should I find some other easy lowlife?" he goaded. 

_Your move._

"Oh, shut up," Jounouchi retorted, and surged up to press his mouth to Kaiba's stupid, soft, self-satisfied lips. 

Under the wine, his tongue still had a hint of that gross whiskey, and Jounouchi couldn't care less. There were hands in his hair, pressing in a heavy slide to the nape of his neck, then down an arm before dragging him upright and directing him up a blurry flight of stairs with insistent steering. They stayed on Jounouchi's body the whole time, and it was very thoughtful of them to help keep Jounouchi upright, very thoughtful indeed when he was stumbling with unsteady limbs through an unfamiliar apartment; dark like the bottom of the ocean, pressure heavy, Jounouchi both buoyant and weighed down in the water. He even felt something swim against his leg, brushing his ankle, but forgot about it as quickly as it happened. 

The lights in Kaiba's bedroom were on a dimmer switch too, and he didn't spend any time giving the place more than a faint brush of light. His glossy tie still caught what little of it there was when Jounouchi sent it across the room with an eel-like ripple. Kaiba's bedroom. _Holy shit._

"Wait," said Jounouchi, grabbing at Kaiba's wrist. 

Kaiba stopped unbuttoning his shirt, and fixed Jounouchi with raised eyebrows. 

"Just—nothing up the front," Jounouchi told him. "Touching, yes, _great_ , but try putting anything in and I'll kill you. And don't call it a—y'know."

Kaiba nodded once, and Jounouchi relaxed his grip. He immediately found fingers reaching around to grope at his ass. "Anything else?" 

"If you don't put anything up _there_ I'll kill you."

"Needy." 

Jounouchi yelped in surprise at the subsequent smack, heat flooding his face. The asshole didn't have to be so fucking smug about it. 

After that, it all got a bit blurry. Out of focus, like everything was happening just a bit too close to Jounouchi's eyes. Clothes were swept off and vanished into the depths, the currents sweeping onward. It was too dark to see properly. Everything was sensation; the bed beneath, a landscape of skin against his own, salty under his tongue and warm under his fingers. Some of it was soft and smooth, some of it was dotted with little bumps and boney hills and thin, raised rivulets, and some of it was hot and hard and being repeatedly ground against him. Even as Jounouchi's head swam, he wished that he'd gotten Kaiba to turn the light on a bit further. Kaiba was sweating against him, cock hardening under his fingers, and Jounouchi had never wanted so badly to _see_ something.

Still, giving Seto Kaiba a hard on was a massive ego boost. But Jounouchi was forced not to gloat, too distracted by the feelings of teeth against his neck, fingers running along his thighs before turning him over. The hands Jounouchi had been staring at all night were firm and commanding, smoothing along his spine, steadying at his hip, stretching him open with precise movements that made Jounouchi keen and pant into a pillow. 

" _Fuck_ , I'm _ready,_ put your damn dick in me you fucking _asshole_ —oh— _fuck_ —" 

"Always such a— _ah_ —blabbermouth," Kaiba sighed, and Jounouchi wanted to snark back but the long line of Kaiba pressing against and into him, firm and unyielding, made him too dizzy for coherent speech. It was all he could do to grab one of Kaiba's hands and shove it down for something to grind against. 

It was when Jounouchi was lying there, totally spent after finally mustering the effort to turn himself onto his side, toying with Kaiba's fingers, that he remembered.

"Ghost gum," he murmured. 

"Hm?" Kaiba inquired in the distinctive way that someone does when they're too tired to actually pay attention. Too tired to take their hand back. Jounouchi was touching Kaiba's hand, and everything felt rather hazy. He curled his fingers around it. 

"A ghost gum tree," Jounouchi repeated, and promptly fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plant related proverbs at the begining of chapters may or may not become a thing. idk, we'll see what works and what doesn't
> 
> anyway, im thinking after this ill upload once a fortnite? until i run out of stuff? in the mean time, my tumblr is dominocity and my twitter is kaiba_txt. ask me about anything ive written or even other stuff to watch me flail about nervously as i attempt coherency


	3. Fleeing the Gum Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Up a Gum Tree_ • To be stuck a challenging, awkward, or uncomfortable situation; to be in a very difficult situation that one cannot get out of.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Jounouchi wakes up and goes to work. Kaiba does the same, just slightly slower.

Honda had once told Jounouchi, after one of many nights spent escaping home on his friend's spare futon as a teen, that he slept like the world's liveliest log; he snuffled and mumbled and generally wriggled himself around, but to anyone attempting to wake or move him, he was utterly unresponsive. Despite this, years of brutal training had drilled the talent of waking up exactly five minutes before his alarm deep into his marrow, saving him from the horrid screeching punishment that awaited should he ever lapse in his regimen. Waking in an unusually comfortable bed, wrapped up in a soft duvet and a sheen of sweat, Jounouchi groggily pulled away from the strangely fleshy pillow he'd been snuggling his face into, and instinctively patted around for his phone. When this search method yielded no results, he frowned, and sat up. 

Peering out through the film of his headache, Jounouchi saw the beginnings of sunrise bubbling up over the blocky horizon. Light oozed its way over the organised sprawl of Domino before seeping through thin, translucent fabric—there were heavier, actually useful curtains, but they had never made it across the window. Jounouchi could see the dip in the buildings before they built up again into the silhouette of downtown, and the distant glimmer of the ocean just peeking into frame. Pretty sweet view, he thought vaguely. 

Yawning, Jounouchi flopped back down, stretching into the mattress and kicking one leg in the air. Turning his head where it landed, he was met with a pale, long-fingered hand, connected to an arm which led to a body, as these things often do. Not much of a shock, given the gentle aches in Jounouchi's everything. He gave the smooth forearm before a light prod in order to confirm that yes, that was a person, and said person twitched in his sleep. Lying on his back, mouth hanging slightly open, and sporting a mess of bedhead, Kaiba looked pretty stupid. _Cute._ Jounouchi smiled with bleary ease as he heaved himself to his feet and stretched properly. Honestly, who slept on their _back?_ Kaiba was such a weirdo—

Wait.

Jounouchi whipped back around to stare at his still-sleeping companion, and suddenly felt very, _very_ awake. 

_Fuck_ , Jounouchi thought to himself with mild hysteria. He stared, paralysed, at the sleeping form, feeling like a trapdoor had just been opened in his belly, spilling his guts all over the soft, pristine wool carpet of Kaiba's bedroom. _Kaiba's_ bedroom. Kaiba's _bedroom? Fuck!_

Jounouchi gathered his entrails, scrambled to pick out his discarded clothes from Kaiba’s in the mess on the floor. Even in his panicked state he took a moment to raise his eyebrows at the pair of sock suspenders, but he didn’t really have time to fully appreciate that titbit of knowledge at the realisation his jacket wasn’t there—his jacket, which probably had his phone in the pocket. Fuck, what did he do with it? Must’ve been downstairs, he thought, and bit his lip as he glanced back once before slipping out the door. 

Still pulling his shirt back on as he stumbled down the stairs in a daze, Jounouchi managed to hit his elbow on the wall at the bottom in his haste, but he didn’t slip on any articles of clothing on the way down at least, so that was something. Glancing around the main room, hazy light drifting in through the enormous windows, Jounouchi’s eyes searched over the floor, the couch, the cat, the table, the—hold on, the cat? 

There was a small cat curled up on the couch. A tortoiseshell. Jounouchi certainly hadn’t noticed _that_ the previous night. 

His jacket was, naturally, underneath it. 

Approaching with hesitant steps, Jounouchi held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, as if about to attempt to steal some priceless artifact from a plinth. “Hey there little fella,” he whispered in a friendly assurance more to himself than to the cat. In the light of morning, he could see little claw marks and shedded fur on the likely expensive furniture. 

Cautiously, Jounouchi stroked the little furry obstacle’s head, fingertips disappearing into exceptionally soft fur as the cat made a quiet _mrrp_ noise and woke up. It blinked sleepily up at him.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Jounouchi asked the cat. 

The cat blinked at him again, appeared to realise it didn’t know him, and promptly sank its fangs into his hand.

"Fuck!" Jounouchi hissed, pulling the demon off of himself, before deciding to hell with it and yanking the jacket out from underneath the disgruntled animal. The furry inconvenience made a startled, yelping sort of noise, and sprang away, running to hide from the intruder. Accusative amber eyes glared out at Jounouchi from under the award shelf. Tail twitching, the cat crouched directly beneath the glass rose. Clearly, Jounouchi was overstaying his welcome. 

Shaking his bitten hand before sucking on the injured skin—it wasn’t bleeding, but it still hurt—Jounouchi retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. 5:03 AM. Significantly more than five minutes before his alarm, but he wasn't complaining. Left him time to head home for a shower and a change of clothes before work. The metro would be open after all. 

After making his way into the overly large kitchen and drinking water directly from the tap, Jounouchi's short investigation turned up multiple sudoku books but no convenient pads of paper. He had to settle for an empty envelope. 

Retrieving a pen from a pocket, Jounouchi stood over the counter and, after five minutes of intense mental drafting and pen chewing, wrote absolutely nothing.

Then he tugged his shoes on and left. He could've gone for a big breakfast, Jounouchi thought as he stepped out into a light drizzle. His insides were clenching something fierce.

* * *

Working for the Domino prefecture public assistance office was not a glamorous job. When Jounouchi wasn't being sent out to scope out some household for denying benefits, it involved a fair amount of sitting in a small cubicle among other small cubicles, calling one office and getting redirected to another, talking in circles, jumping through hoops, and banging his head against the cold and impartial walls of bureaucracy. He spent much of the day fuming that, to the assholes at the top with their cushy lives and fat salaries, owning a single air conditioning unit was viable grounds to refuse a person help, never mind how hot it always got in the summer. 

It was consuming work, and left little time for Jounouchi to contemplate his life. He just wished his coworkers had gotten the memo for that. 

"Hey. Jou. _Hey,"_ Iwasaki whispered the moment their team leader was off in a meeting, voice slipping through the criss-crossing chords of telephones ringing and people arguing, rain splattering against the square windows. He rested his chin and fingers on their cubicle divider, a teasing grin on his face which had never managed to escape the pestering presence of acne. "How'd it go with Chibana?" 

Usually, Jounouchi was glad that not everyone in his department acted like doing anything other than work for even the briefest second would trigger the apocalypse, but that day he would have rather gotten on with it. He did feel he somewhat owed Iwasaki the conversation though, as well as the complaint. "Oh, great. Your guy stood me up," he whispered back with sarcastic cheer. 

"No!" Iwasaki gasped with the drama of a reality show presenter, and immediately looked around furtively before wheeling his chair around to Jounouchi's cubicle, which really didn't have the space for both of them. Iwasaki's knees bumped into the side of Jounouchi's chair when he sat down again. "What happened? Full story please." 

Jounouchi sighed. "Nothing happened, Iwa. That's what being stood up means," he pointed out, tapping away at his keyboard. As always, too many emails for any one person to handle, all gift-wrapped specially for him. They really needed more people. "He was already late when I got a 'sorry can't make it' text with a sad face. Didn't bother texting back."

Shaking his head, Iwasaki took the shame of the act onto his own shoulders. "Man, that jerk! And Kubo said that Masuda said that Sano said that Chibana is always so reliable!" He clutched his hand to his forehead in a show of horror, running fingers through his floppy curtain bangs before leaning forwards with his grin firmly back in place. "I _did_ say full story though."

Jounouchi groaned. "Why's there always have to be a full story with you? I got bailed on, end of, nothing more to it." 

Iwasaki tapped his fingers on his armrest before holding up three of them. "If _nothing_ happened, you'd have been ranting about Chibana to me the moment you got in." He flicked down one finger. "You’ve also got two more coffees than usual. Have fun last night?" He flicked down another. 

"Hey! I’m just—tired! Just tired! And I wanted to try some new flavours! I’m using my punch card!" Jounouchi spluttered indignantly over the rim of one of his coffees. It would be hard to hide from the inquisitive mind of Iwasaki, forever ferreting his nose into other people's business, but damn it he would try. "And I didn't wanna go straight to non-work shit in front of Yamagishi when I _know_ she already thinks I'm a slacker! She could be back any minute! I'm not talking to you, jerk." Jounouchi straightened up and turned back to his computer, before briefly turning back to glare. "And I don't rant!"

"And your concealer is rubbing off onto your collar," Iwasaki said mildly. 

" _Shit!_ " Jounouchi exclaimed, and instinctively went to feel the area. His fingertips came away clean, and he stared at them in confusion, then at Iwasaki. 

Iwasaki's smug grin could've been described as catlike, waggling his one remaining finger in a tutting motion. "Gotcha."

Jounouchi had _known_ he'd used setting spray that morning, and resisted the urge to start bashing his brains out on his desk, which might not have been able to stand up to the onslaught of his thick skull anyway. If anything, he would probably just break his glasses, and they'd been through enough already. "Fucking hell, Detective Conan. _Fine_. I got a bit drunk and got my rocks off with someone else. There, happy?" 

"Noooo, there has to be a story," Iwasaki pouted. "You _never_ go home with someone you just met, and you're usually not so cagey. Is it someone I know? It's someone I know isn't it. That Guy From Pensions? I _knew_ it, I _knew_ he was into you—" 

"It's not That Guy From Pensions," Jounouchi groaned. Iwasaki had a tendency to latch onto the oddest things. "It was just some guy I knew in high school, alright? Now leave it alone."

"Fine, stay mysterious," Iwasaki conceded, pushing his feet against the floor to peddle back to his own booth without getting up or breaking eye contact. " _Don't_ tell me about the reason you've typed the same sentence fifteen times."

Jounouchi blinked at his monitor. _Shit_. That was before Iwasaki had even interrupted him. Rubbing at his forehead, Jounouchi backspaced the offending text and resolutely didn’t think about the reasons for his absentmindedness, or the odd lump in his stomach. Probably a cold, if the itch in the back of his throat and his bad luck were any indication. Or maybe a weird hangover element he'd never gotten before. He groaned when he was sent out to visit a family out near the airport. Stupid rain was probably why he felt like shit in the first place. 

The metro journey out was forty minutes of reading and rereading the same adverts on the carriage walls and listening to the steady thrum of wheels on tracks. Being the line that ran towards the airport, the train was packed not only with people but luggage as well, but Jounouchi managed to nab a seat next to a young woman dwarfed by her own horde of suitcases. Leaning his head back against the window to feel the ever-present juddering, he attempted to lapse into an almost-sleep to make up for the hours lost the night before. 

With Kaiba. 

Jounouchi folded his arms and shut his eyes, intending to continue his snooze until he reached his destination, but was kept from doing so by his sore throat. It persisted as a minor bother all the way to his destination, and all throughout his assessment of the Fujita household (a TV and an ancient bicycle their main barriers to receiving assistance). Miss Fujita graciously bestowed a mug of tea and some tissues upon him, and wished him better health as he left with one more bicycle than he arrived with. Jounouchi had lent as much as he could afford for it, and on his way back into the city, he made the diversion to his apartment so it could join the various other 'luxury items' stashed in his apartment, waiting to be returned once their owners passed the potential inspection from someone other than Jounouchi. 

Jounouchi's apartment wasn’t a bad place. The top floor of a small two story house, with a metro stop and shops and a park nearby, it was convenient even if tinier than a matchbox. The small size made rent easier anyway. Jounouchi had bounced around a lot after moving out of the apartment he'd shared with his dad, with what money that hadn’t gone to paying off his old man’s debts, and this place was far from the worst. He missed the camaraderie of his old neighbours a little, but he didn’t miss having to always be looking over his shoulder. Or the constantly leaking pipes. 

Hauling the bicycle up the single flight of outside stairs with just enough difficulty to be annoyed by the whole ordeal, Jounouchi pushed his wet hair back from his face once he got inside. He wasn't a hoarder, if you asked him, but the small space was becoming quite difficult to navigate. 

Not a single millimeter of precious non-floor surface was left uncovered, and a fair amount of the floor was covered too. There was a tiny dining table, but it was elusive to the eye, shoved into a corner and buried under laundry and assorted clutter. Technically he could've laid down the futon on the floor, but it would have had to partially go into the kitchen, and with the messes Jounouchi always managed to make in there that was a cleaning duty he didn't have the energy for. Instead, the back cushions from the couch were consigned to live in the cupboard, and the futon rolled out over the couch seat instead. Populated with stuffed animals, it was only ever rolled up halfway for sitting down. Jounouchi had a large enough collection of plush toys that he had a rotation for who went on the futon and who went in the storage box. Only the scapegoats were a permanent fixture. 

At the head of the couch, the surface of a reappropriated stool was dedicated to a lucky bamboo plant in a clear plastic pot. Jounouchi had named her Shoot, and had to rotate her periodically to stop her leaning too far in one direction. The gardening magazines and illustrated books—on landscaping, botany, ikebana, hanakotoba—that he’d entertained himself with as a kid were at the bottom of a cardboard box in a cupboard, safe and out of sight. His old man's green thumb had rotted with his liver and Jounouchi found them difficult to look at now, but even harder to get rid of. Their pages hadn't been viewed in thirteen years. 

Frowning, Jounouchi cast about for somewhere to put the bicycle. The entryway was already cramped with his shoe rack, his jacket collection, and his bag of plastic bags. He quickly figured out that the only place to store the bike was against the wall behind the couch. 

Heaving it out to make a gap, when Jounouchi reached underneath and tugged out the end where he laid his head every night, his hand knocked against something that had come with him from place to place for years and years, and he slowly retrieved it with hesitant fingers. 

Kneeling on the floor, Jounouchi held the old jar loosely in his hands. The grubby remains of the label were scratched and scraped over, and the lid screwed tight, contents inside safely preserved. There was no reason to keep it, but Jounouchi could never find it in himself to get rid of the thing. Not like it took up space anyway.

Jounouchi flipped the jar upside down and upright again. He'd fucked up with Kaiba, he acknowledged glumly, watching the contents drift about. Sure, it was just a one night thing, but he shouldn't've run out like that. It was difficult to imagine Kaiba as giving a shit, but still, he should've written _something_ no matter how stupid. Stuck around until he woke up—Kaiba probably got up early too. Jounouchi couldn't even send a sorry text; he didn't have Kaiba's number. Maybe he could go over and apologise. _Sorry for scarpering, rich-boy, I just freaked out a little when I realised I'd gotten you tipsy and slept with you. It was good though, you've got a great dick. Five stars. Also your cat bit me. No hard feelings, right?_

Jounouchi took one last look at the jar before tucking it back underneath the couch. When he set back out to the office, it was with possible plans of action swirling around his brain. Between phone calls and means test calculations, Jounouchi weighed his options. Going to Kaiba's apartment seemed easiest, but also the most likely to fail. There was no guarantee Kaiba would answer if he rang the bell, and he didn't have the codes to get in or slide anything under his door. The second thing he thought of was visiting him at his office, but that wasn't likely to work either. Jounouchi doubted any security would let him in under the assurance that he was just an old dueling buddy from back in the day, and Kaiba himself would probably be too busy to deal with him if requests to talk to him even got through. The third thing, and the one that Jounouchi begrudgingly decided on doing, was asking Yuugi for Kaiba's number. He knew they still talked—were friends, maybe. It was the simplest option, and the most likely to work. But Yuugi would no doubt want to know why Jounouchi suddenly wanted it, and Jounouchi didn't like lying. 

Oh well. Live and learn, just like the _Sonic Adventure 2_ soundtrack said. Jounouchi sent a quick message with the not-lie of saying he ran into Kaiba in a store, and wanted to reconnect but wasn't able to get his number. Yuugi would probably be so pleased. The dueling trio, back together again… 

Kaiba was most likely already getting on with his life, unaware, unbothered by the minor breakdown he'd induced. Just like old times, really. 

To prove that life was circling back in on itself, Kaiba proved to be one step ahead of him when Jounouchi's desk phone rang with a call from the front desk. 

"Yo, Jounouchi. Got a visitor here who wants to talk to you—Hiroto Mazaki?"

" _What?!_ " Jounouchi screeched and nearly dropped the phone. _Those two got hitched? Those two were_ dating _?! HOW?! Anzu lives in America?! And she’s gay?! What the FUCK?! Neither of them said anything! Is it a green card thing? Are they that desperate to get hitched before thirty? That’s not gonna work, it never works, they’ll just end up hating each oth—_

After spending twelve seconds in horrified shock over an utterly incomprehensible marriage he hadn't been notified of, Jounouchi remembered a snippet of conversation from the previous night and figured out what was going on. "I mean—yeah, I know him. Give him access to my floor and send him up," he said, hoping his freak out hadn't been _too_ obvious. 

Kaiba had decided to visit him? He'd pissed him off, hadn't he. He'd upset him to the point Kaiba was using what Jounouchi had told him about his job to physically hunt him down, because Kaiba was the closest person to the Terminator Jounouchi knew. Fuck. Shit. Shitfuck. _Nice going, Jounouchi._ No one would find his body, Jounouchi thought dramatically, there would just be an explosion of blood all over the walls of his humble cubicle. At least it was late and his boss was off now, along with Iwazaki and most other people. Nerd like him would definitely recognise Kaiba and put two and two together to make an incriminating four. 

Jounouchi briefly thought about tidying up his workspace, then remembered that this was Kaiba. There was no point trying to impress him, and actually, Jounouchi didn't want to impress him anyway. Instead, he adjusted a few of his photos tacked to the cubicle walls to be wonkier. He had a fair amount of them: Shizuka's photos along with cutouts of her magazine spreads, photos of the old gang. 

It really had been a while since he'd seen any of them but Yuugi in person. It couldn't be helped. Anzu had left to America long ago, initially just for dance school but she’d stayed permanently in the end; Honda to Tokyo for a girlfriend, and he'd made a life there even when that hadn't worked out, so they only saw each other when they had time to travel; Ryou was always off doing some archeological venture and wanted to spend all his time with Yuugi when he was back; Mai, still globetrotting and dueling professionally; Otogi was… Jounouchi realised he didn't know. He had a weird memory of him opening a café, but that didn't sound quite right. There wasn't a single photo with Kaiba in it. He’d always refused to stand for them. Mokuba had wormed his way into a couple with a bright grin though. 

Jounouchi turned a group portrait upside down, and applauded himself for the visual metaphor. He supposed drifting apart after graduating was pretty normal for high school friends, but he didn't have to like it. 

Not even Kaiba's footsteps—deliberately loud and clicky, Jounouchi used to petulantly suspect—could overcome the cushioning of the carpet, and Jounouchi was alerted to the presence behind him by a snap of fingers next to his ear instead. 

He startled and recoiled at the noise, before spinning around to face his foe with his arms folded and brows set. "You gotta stop doing that," he complained. 

Unsurprisingly, Kaiba ignored the complaint, examining Jounouchi’s small cubicle of organised chaos: potted succulents and stacks upon stacks of paperwork and folders, the disarray of pens, the photos decorating the walls. Jounouchi wondered what Kaiba’s office was like. Probably had a desk the size of Uranus. Ha. 

“When you said you often worked overtime, I wasn’t inclined to believe you,” said Kaiba.

There for two seconds and already insulting him. Typical. “Watch your mouth, I’m no slacker,” Jounouchi responded, irritated. “And I give a shit about what I do here.”

Kaiba’s eyes finally swiveled to focus on Jounouchi, and that steel blue glare finally bore down upon him with an incomprehensible weight, making him suppress the urge to fidget. The twill trousers and unadorned ankle boots had remained, but a transparent raincoat replaced the gray one, and underneath, a signature black turtleneck had replaced the generic shirt. Hiding his neck. Jounouchi eyed the article of clothing with mixed feelings. And wondered if he was wearing sock suspenders again. 

He sighed, and rubbed at his head. “I’m sorry, I-”

"You left this," Kaiba interrupted him, and held out a woven leather bracelet in his non-snapping hand. 

"Oh." Jounouchi hadn't noticed any of his bracelets being missing, but it sure did look like one of his. Taking the accessory, he twirled it through his fingers. "Thanks…" he murmured, and attempted to mentally adjust to the situation. Kaiba hadn't been hunting him down in anger, he'd just wanted to return something. That was… weird. Good? Preferable, at least. Jounouchi was just surprised he bothered. Should he still apologise? No, he'd tried and been interrupted. Kaiba clearly wasn't interested in hearing any of that. 

"You wear glasses," Kaiba said suddenly, and Jounouchi looked up to find him still towering, arms now folded over his chest. 

Jounouchi blinked and pushed the red frames back up his nose self-consciously. "Yup. Can't read shit without 'em. Just full of surprises, me."

Kaiba tilted his head slightly. "You look like that American musician," he decreed, as if he was reading out some scientific test result or announcing an electoral candidate, and not just commenting on Jounouchi’s dorky appearance. "Buddy Holly."

 _…Okay_ . Call the press, pop the champagne for the official announcement: Jounouchi did _not_ understand what was happening in this conversation. He'd tripped and fallen somewhere and entered a topsy-turvy bizzaro mirror-verse where Seto Kaiba visited him at work and made awkward small talk. 

"...And you're Mary Tyler Moore?" Jounouchi half-sang, feeling an awkward but unstoppable twitch at the corners of his mouth. 

Kaiba frowned slightly, and Jounouchi sighed, slouching back in his chair. Clearly he did not get the reference. Hardly surprising Kaiba knew nothing of real art.

Picking up one of Jounouchi's succulents from his desk—Stripey, the zebra haworthia—Kaiba examined it with a critical eye. "You were gone without a word this morning," he said crisply, no doubt judging Jounouchi's capabilities at taking care of plants, one thing Jounouchi was certain he had Kaiba beat on. Even if he did only own low maintenance ones. "But on my way here, I received a message from Yuugi saying you were asking for my number. Clarify that." 

He set the potted cactus back down and pushed it neatly back into place alongside the jade plant, Bells, with a delicate finger, and Jounouchi shifted as he watched the action. He wondered if it was normal to spend so much time looking at a person's hands. “I felt bad about bailing so fast. Wanted to apologise.” Jounouchi continued to fiddle with the bracelet. It felt oddly stiff, and he shoved it into a pocket. Couldn't wear them at work. “I was, uh, freaking out a little bit. Not every day you have a drunken fling with your old nemesis, you know?”

“...No, it isn't,” Kaiba agreed, and Jounouchi hadn’t realised he’d been hunching over until his back straightened and he began to turn and walk away.

Well, _that_ wouldn’t do. “You gotta stop doing that,” Jounouchi called after the retreating form. “Leaving without a goodbye. It’s rude.”

To that, Kaiba said nothing, but he turned around and gave Jounouchi the most unimpressed look he'd ever seen. Point taken. 

Jounouchi looked at the clock. His work day was technically over, his boss having left. Either Kaiba had timed his visit perfectly or—no, who was Jounouchi kidding, Kaiba had timed his visit perfectly. Important thing was, Jounouchi could leave. 

Shoving his things haphazardly into his rucksack and grabbing his windbreaker, Jounouchi took off after Kaiba, catching him up just as he reached the elevator. “Going my way?” he joked with a weak grin as he flit through the just closing doors. 

"I wasn't planning on visiting the pound, no," Kaiba said dismissively. 

"Ha, dog joke, classic. Didn't even realise you didn't make any last night," Jounouchi pondered. "Even though they would've actually been relevant for once."

Kaiba still didn't look at him, instead focusing on the floor number ticking down. "Hmph. You should've told me you'd enjoy them."

"Maybe next time," Jounouchi said unthinkingly. 

There was a soft _ding_ and the doors slid open, but neither of them moved for a second, causing a brief incidental stand off with a trolley-wheeling cleaner waiting for them to make room. Kaiba's strides as he moved first seemed slightly slower than usual, handing his guest pass back over to front security. 

"I don't make a habit of repeating drunken flings, deadbeat," Kaiba said as the outer doors slid open for them. 

Something about the way Kaiba pronounced _fling_ made it sound like he was saying _mistake,_ and Jounouchi felt a jolting hurt at that even though he agreed. He shrugged it off. "Guess not. Was fun though."

"Hmph," Kaiba repeated as they set off towards the nearest metro station in an unspoken agreement. The rain had eased into a barely-there drizzle. Small mercies and all that. Kaiba still pulled his hood up, but Jounouchi opted to enjoy the faint misting on his face. 

And it _had_ been fun, Jounouchi realised blearily as he listened to their footsteps tapping at the sidewalk, his own worn soles making barely any noise and Kaiba's clacking making up for it. Not the word he’d thought he’d be thinking if he ever managed to get Kaiba to fuck him. Exhilarating and exhausting, filthy and satisfying, he’d thought, and those all applied to an extent too, but still. _Fun._ Jounouchi didn't know what to do with that thought, except try and think about something else. 

"Surprised you don't still drive everywhere, polluting this fair city with your noise and smelly fumes. Though _you_ don’t exactly need a car for that," Jounouchi commented. 

"I used to live on the outskirts, and there didn't used to be so much traffic,” Kaiba responded. “I still have vehicles, but usually driving a car is even more inconvenient than your pestering, and I prefer not to use a motorbike in the rain." 

They reached the metro station. Being a central hub, it was bustling with people all in a tremendous hurry to get somewhere, no doubt with the fate of humanity and the planet and such in the balance. Jounouchi briefly wondered if they'd be recognised, two old school duelists standing together, but crowds were anonymising things. Besides, Jounouchi’s brief fame had flickered out pretty quickly, which annoyed him sometimes when duelists were still talking about Kaiba and Yuugi—well, not Yuugi, really—years later. He’d had a woman come up to him in a Lawson once and ask for a picture, and it had been a huge ego boost until she’d said she loved him in _Oboreru Knife_. Which like, really? Just because he bleached? He looked nothing like that guy! 

Finding that they were each headed in opposite directions, Jounouchi felt the same tug he'd felt in the convenience store, a deep sense of wrongness at the idea of Kaiba not being in his life again. 

"Your number," Jounouchi said suddenly. "You never gave it."

The look Kaiba gave Jounouchi made him feel like a lab project, or a speck of mould. The sheer mass of people coursed about like rapids, forcing them to stand close together. Jounouchi had to tilt his chin up to look Kaiba in the eyes as the crowd flowed around them. It could snag one of them at any moment, but Kaiba stood tall against the currents like a water tupelo. 

"Nothing escapes your keen senses, mutt," Kaiba remarked. 

"You should," Jounouchi told him with more bravado than he felt. 

"Should I?" Kaiba questioned in sardonic contemplation. "I don't give one night stands my number."

It was jarring, trying to reconcile the Kaiba he'd known in high school with the Kaiba standing before him, the Kaiba who’d said ‘not here.’ It wasn’t like Jounouchi had never thought of Kaiba as a sexual person—far from it—but he’d always thought that, well, intense and passionate and distrusting as he was, he’d be more into commitment. On the other hand, there had only ever been one person Jounouchi could see him doing that with, and he wasn't around anymore. 

"What about dueling rivals?" Jounouchi said hesitantly. 

Kaiba snorted. Actually snorted, his whole body jolting with the motion. Well _that_ was just plain rude. "You were never my rival, moron, and even if you were, when did you last play? Update your deck? You couldn't beat me when you were still placing in tournaments, let alone _now_." 

There was a smirk sneaking its way onto Kaiba's features, his posture relaxing just a little even as he refuted Jounouchi's claim. 

Despite the insult, Jounouchi found himself grinning in response. "Y’know moneybags, it’s okay to be scared, you don’t have to make excuses," he challenged. 

He might have worn more normal people clothes, used public transport, and had one night stands, but for better or worse he was still Kaiba in the ways that counted. And he never turned down an offer to kick someone’s ass. "Give me your phone," Kaiba demanded with really more force than he had any right to. 

Jounouchi handed it over, and rolled his eyes at Kaiba's unconcealed disgust at the ancient thing. So what if he still used an LG with a slide out keyboard? It worked, and Jounouchi liked the tactile feel of physical buttons. Tapping at glass was so unsatisfying. 

Taking the phone back, Jounouchi found that Kaiba had already sent himself a blank text. He also shook his head a little at Kaiba's lack of creativity, and changed his contact name from _Seto Kaiba_ to _Rich Bitch 🤑._

"I guess I'll see you around, then," Jounouchi said, and looked up to find Kaiba already walking away with nary a goodbye. "Oi! Asshole!" he called after him, and Kaiba responded with a little up and down wiggle of his fingers without turning, towering height preventing him from vanishing into the crowd, a long stalk amongst short grass. 

Rolling his eyes, Jounouchi set off towards his own platform with a little grin and a spring in his step. Yuugi had sent him multiple texts, and he spent the ride home typing out responses and then backspacing. Another passenger clutching a carriage handle two down from him kept coughing miserably, and he gave her his remaining tissues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was no one gonna say i spelt fortnight like fortnite on the last end notes or were u all just gonna let my stupid gamer ass expose itself. ive decided to punish you by just uploading now instead
> 
> i am unsatisfied with this chapter, but at least it has a substantial drip of Hints


	4. Oats are a Kind of Seed, I Suppose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sowing one's oats_ • To engage in sexually promiscuous or dissolute behavior, especially as a young adult.  
>  _Sow the seeds_ • To do something that ensures a certain outcome in the future, especially an unfortunate or tragic one; to cause someone to have certain thoughts or feelings, usually negative ones.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Jounouchi goes back to Kaiba's apartment for a duel or three. He has no plans to do anything else. Well, no fully realised ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is an explicit sex scene at the end. if u want to avoid it, don't worry, you'll see it (heh) coming

Jounouchi's life points hit zero. _Again_. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, and immediately grabbed Kaiba’s cards and started shuffling. "One more!" 

"That's what you said last round," Kaiba pointed out dryly. He was taking Jounouchi’s own deck and shuffling anyway. "Give up."

Petty, maybe, but the time window for graciously accepting defeat was over, and Jounouchi had been told that he lacked grace anyway. _"No!"_ Jounouchi shot back, and slammed Kaiba’s cards back in his deck zone. "Duel!"

With the sun low on the horizon, they dueled at Kaiba’s dining table. It was a long, thin thing with a glass surface and space to seat at least four people, but if Kaiba had more than two chairs then the rest had been vanished off somewhere. Sitting opposite each other in the very middle, there was only just enough space for the two pristine game mats, and it felt wrong, in a way. Shouldn't they be sitting at each end, staring each other down over the long battlefield? But Jounouchi supposed that would have been impractical. The penthouse was pretty big, but it still didn't have space for giant SolidVision monsters. 

The whole place was smaller than Jounouchi expected of Kaiba, actually. Smaller than Kaiba mansion, that was for sure, and Jounouchi couldn't blame Kaiba for wanting out of that museum of a building. Jounouchi had only been there once and he hadn't even made it through the door, but the place had still given him the creeps. _This_ place was modern and stank of Rich, but it wasn’t unwelcoming, even if it was disturbingly neat. Even the soft blanket on the couch was draped with perfect, flat symmetry along the backrest. At first and second glance there didn't seem to be a single thing out of place. At third glance, however, he _did_ spot a little red toy mouse just peeking out from under a sideboard, no doubt batted there by excitable paws. 

The cat herself had been sitting in a large teal plant pot when Jounouchi arrived, the gentle leaves of a peace lily swaying slightly to themselves from their place next a bookshelf. Seeing her watching him cautiously from underneath the awning of foliage, Jounouchi went over and attempted to fix their hostile relationship. Cats were alright when they weren't being savage little beasts.

"Hello again, shy-guy," Jounouchi had greeted. Lifting up one of the large leaves to see her better, he rubbed it between finger and thumb. Fake, but a really good fake. "Anyone tell you how sharp your teeth are?" 

"Saggi would hardly bite you if you didn't insist on bothering her," Kaiba had told him. 

"Hey, she stole _my_ jacket. That's on her." Not to be deterred, Jounouchi had crouched properly and offered his hand for her to sniff. She hesitantly leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "I'd think she'd be madder at _you_ for naming her after a monster clown."

Then Jounouchi had gotten a brand spanking new claw mark across his index finger from trying to pet her again. Saggi, it turned out, had extra toes on each of her front paws, all the better for attacking him with. Even Kaiba's cat had to be a cut above the rest. She was interested in the game too, occasionally jumping up and walking all over the cards, at which point Jounouchi would laugh and Kaiba would silently put her back on the floor in an eternal cycle of adorable, unstoppable cat vs steel-hearted, immovable bastard. 

It had been a long two weeks since Jounouchi had cajoled Kaiba's number out of him, the following back and forth resulting in Jounouchi returning to Kaiba’s apartment, deck in hand, for the showdown if not of the century, or even the decade, then at least of the month. In what spare time he'd had for contemplation, Jounouchi had imagined and reimagined how this evening would go. The problem was that once Jounouchi had started off home on that metro train, smug at his ingenious tactic to get Kaiba to stay in his life, he'd suddenly realised he had no idea in what way he wanted him there. 

When he'd gotten waffles with Yuugi on the weekend, his breakfast food addicted friend had been of little help. "I'm glad you two are reconnecting," he'd said, sipping orange juice. Freshly pressed, with pulp, because under Yuugi's innocent exterior there laid a sick bastard with devilish tastes. "Now you've both calmed down a bit."

A younger Jounouchi would've bristled at the statement. That he managed to stop himself then was exactly what Yuugi was talking about. "Yeah… it's just a bit weird, y’know?" he'd said through a chunk of his second waffle. "Like, what do we even _do_?" 

Jounouchi struggled to see Kaiba as being like any other person he could just send stupid images he found on the internet and talk about dramas with. He was _Kaiba._ Different. Special. Kind of scary, kind of confusing, occasionally rage inducing, and frequently just plain mean. And Jounouchi wasn’t Yuugi. Kaiba had always respected Yuugi more than he respected most people, which really just meant he respected him at all. That had always rankled in their dueling years. Still rankled. 

Rolling his eyes with a level of affection only he could manage, Yuugi naturally didn’t get the issue. "Well, what do you _want_ to do? Kaiba can be a bit, well, Kaiba, but he’s not gonna grind your bones to make his bread or anything. He's a busy guy though, so if you wanna do something you should ask a bit in advance. I don't see him much in real life, we mainly voice chat."

"Right, right…" Jounouchi had said, shoving another hunk of waffle into his gob, large enough to excuse even him from talking for at least a few seconds. Maybe Yuugi was right and he was overthinking it, but Jounouchi was certain that if he, say, asked Kaiba if he wanted to get breakfast some time, he'd get laughed out of house and home. 

Perhaps sensing it was time for a new topic, Yuugi had unfortunately stumbled onto the only worse subject. "How'd it go with that guy your coworker set you up with?" 

"It didn’t," Jounouchi had answered after swallowing. "Had one date, which went okay. Then he didn't turn up for the second. Didn't even cancel until he was already late."

" _Really_? I swear you have the unluckiest dating life."

"Well, not everyone can bond with their boyfriend over shared experience with Egyptian spirit possession,” Jounouchi had teased. “Some of us have to do this the old fashioned way. But honestly? I just don't think the whole dating thing is for me. I'm more of a down to earth, rugged, lone wolf kinda guy."

"Jou, you're a puppy," Yuugi had said flatly. "Stop being dramatic. There’ll be someone out there for you, I’m sure of it." 

Jounouchi couldn't agree. It wasn’t that Jounouchi didn’t like people, or didn’t connect with them, it was just that all his brief past relationships had fizzled out after the initial spark—sometimes with a quiet spluttering dignity and sometimes with the explosive bang of a door slamming shut. He’d found ways to fuck all of them up.

(One person had stormed out after finding the jar under his bed and realising what it was. He hadn't bothered chasing after them to explain.) 

Yuugi wouldn't get it. Couldn't. "Maybe," Jounouchi had conceded, not voicing his train of thought. Honda and the chick who'd broken up with him after two years of dating and two months of living together. His own failed relationships. His parents. It didn't matter if it was two months or eleven years, these things just didn't work out. 

Besides, there was always _something_. They’d be too nice, or mean in the boring, actually mean way instead of the fun way; they’d be shit in bed (Jounouchi had needs, y’know); they’d laugh at his old Duel Monsters stories—or even worse take polite, disingenuous, patronising interest. Jounouchi knew it wasn’t fair to need people to share his hobbies, but when the game had had such a significant impact on his life it was difficult not to. Jounouchi joked, but he envied Yuugi and Ryou of their shared experience. Ugh. Maybe he should just bite the bullet and find out what Otogi was up to. He knew the guy had one hundred percent been into him, it was just difficult to look past the dog costume thing and hitting-on-his-sister thing. And the fucking-Honda thing. Look, he didn’t have proof, he just knew it had happened at some point. 

The rest of the breakfast had been spent talking about the safer topics of video games, Yuugi's current game project that he simultaneously gushed over and refused to give details about, and then video games again. The subjects of Jounouchi's dating life and Kaiba were not returned to beyond Yuugi wishing him luck at not getting his ass completely kicked. 

From the looks of things, it had been a few years since Kaiba had updated his own deck. Jounouchi knew he didn't play professionally anymore, aside from a few show games for KaibaCorp events. Them both being out of the game for a while made it all the more grating that Jounouchi couldn't scrape a single win. He'd ended up picking up a six-pack of Kirin on his way from work, and Kaiba still assured Jounouchi he didn't like it even on his second bottle. Jounouchi had had the vague thought that maybe alcohol would slow Kaiba down, but he'd quickly been shown what a dumb idea that was. 

Even so, he was having fun. And from the gleam in his eyes, Kaiba was too, even if he acted put upon. It was odd to play Kaiba up close without the separation of enormous holograms between them—Jounouchi could actually make out the little twitches in his smug mug for once. Maybe he could've figured out Kaiba's tells that close, but he didn't. He could only think of how annoyingly well the nose twitch of superiority and lip curl of condescending amusement suited him. 

They weren’t the only things that suited him either. There was another button up shirt, a dark, textured grey, wrapped tight around his torso, with a black tie spotted with tiny white dots. Same tie clip though. Nerd. On the eleventh turn of their first duel, Jounouchi had watched with a suddenly dry mouth as Kaiba had unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. On the fourth of their second, Kaiba had briefly gotten up from his seat to pour himself some water, and each well-tailored movement in the innocuous sequence had conspired to make Jounouchi tug on his suddenly stifling collar. They were on their third duel now, and Jounouchi waited with baited breath to see what Kaiba would do this round. Jounouchi's brain hoped he wouldn't do anything. Jounouchi's crotch took a different view on things. 

Refocusing on the duel, Jounouchi sent a winning grin across the battlefield. Hot opponent aside, he'd missed this game. "I draw," he announced, flicking another card into his hand. Through blood, sweat, and effect monsters, Jounouchi was confident he could win this one. "Last turn, hot-shot!" he crowed. 

"Such confidence," Kaiba commented, taking another sip of beer. "Assuredly unearned. Your belligerent certainty will be your downfall."

"I'll show _you_ unearned confidence," Jounouchi muttered with a swig of his own. "I attach _Black Metal Dragon_ to _Red-Eyes Archfiend_ as an equip card to raise its attack to 3100 and activate _Red-Eyes Archfiend'_ s effect. Your stupid _Blue-Eyes_ are toast!"

Now his field was clear of monsters, all Jounouchi had to do was attack Kaiba directly. He was going _down_ . Sure he had two cards set in the spell zone, but _Birthright_ wouldn't activate until his turn, and the other one? Well, it couldn't do _that_ much. He’d already used _Negate Attack._

Kaiba, however, seemed to disagree. Before Jounouchi could enter his battle phase, Kaiba's long fingers flicked a card out from his hand. "I activate the effect of _Deep-Eyes White Dragon_ ," he said. 

That was a new one. Kaiba's lips were quirking into a smirk, and Jounouchi was horrified to realise that _that_ was what he'd be doing that round. Just giving him that smirk. 

"When a _Blue-Eyes_ is destroyed, I can special summon this card from my hand and deal my opponent 600 points of damage for each dragon type monster with a different name in my graveyard," Kaiba informed him airily, delicately placing the card in the centre of his field in defence position. "Let's see how many unique dragons I have in my graveyard, shall we?" 

This was bad. Very bad. Kaiba was flicking through his graveyard pile with a kind of causality and detachment that radiated superiority. Jounouchi hated it, hated him, and hated himself most of all for his sudden need to press his thighs together. 

"Hmm. A _ssault Wyvern, Krystal Dragon, White Stone of Ancients, Dragon Spirit of White…_ and of course, the _Blue-Eyes_ you just sent there. How's your math, Jounouchi?" 

Embarrassingly, Jounouchi did actually have to think for a few seconds. Math had never been his strong subject, and Kaiba's better-than-you-and-I-know-it face was distracting for the worst reasons.

"3000 points," he finally answered, and then shook his head, because they were both being stupid. He might be down to 400 life points, but he still had Kaiba right where he wanted him. "But I ain't down yet!" Jounouchi assured his opponent, fisting one hand in front of him and setting his jaw in an expression that he'd been told was 'really fucking weird, stop doing that, man.' "Battle phase—I attack your _Deep-Eyes_ with my _Archfiend._ " The opposing dragon was sent to the graveyard with no interference from trap cards. Jounouchi was on a _roll._ "And now I activate my _Return of the Red-Eyes_ trap to bring back a _Red-Eyes Black Dragon_ from the graveyard and attack you directly, reducing your life points to zero! How's _that_ Mr. 'Your certainty will be your—" 

Kaiba flipped over his one face down card. " _Drowning Mirror Force._ "

"...Oh, _fuck you_."

"And now, with all your monsters shuffled back into your deck, it's my turn. I draw, and activate _Birthright_ to bring back a _Blue-Eyes White Dragon._ You were saying something about a last turn?"

With nothing left on his field, Jounouchi could only watch as Kaiba placed a single finger on his _Blue-Eyes_ to slowly slide it forward until it hit his monster zone. 

"According to my calculations, 3000 is slightly higher than 400," Kaiba finished with a shrug and that stupid, _insufferable_ smirk. "I win."

Okay, so maybe Jounouchi didn't have Kaiba _right_ where he wanted him. Not quite. 

Kaiba retracted his hand and the card with it. He'd painted his nails, Jounouchi noticed with an odd, immobile lurch. Clear, shiny varnish glinted at him as Kaiba gathered and tidied his deck. Probably just to protect the short, neat things from wear and tear. Did he do it himself, or get someone else to do it? Jounouchi briefly entertained himself with the image of Kaiba in a salon, hands stuck out to some poor nail artist while he yelled down a phone lodged between shoulder and ear. 

No, he must do it himself—Kaiba wouldn't sit there listening to the friendly chatter and idle gossip of the world when he could do it himself. They looked slightly shaped too. How long did it take him to file them down to those smooth, shallow curves, to make the delicate brush strokes, to sit waiting for the coat to dry? Jounouchi painted his nails sometimes, and the process always felt like it took ages. Did Kaiba get bored like he did? How did he entertain himself for those long minutes? Watch a film? TV? Did he go on youtube and watch cat videos or vine compilations? 'Try not to laugh' challenges? Did he succeed? Did he _fail_?

"I could almost be convinced you were lost in thought," Kaiba commented with a snap of his fingers. “Should I mark the occasion?”

It was startling, but Jounouchi didn't plunge back down to earth. Instead, he just became aware that he was floating somewhere high in the skyline, watching Kaiba run his nail polished fingers through the fur of a purring cat. Jounouchi hadn't even noticed her jumping back up on the table, but Saggi was sticking her little head in the air as Kaiba scratched her chin. He wasn't looking at her, though. He was looking at Jounouchi. 

Or at least, Jounouchi assumed he was. Now that the only light in the apartment was from those little kitchen lights directly above, Kaiba's face was cast with dramatic shadows, and Jounouchi could barely see his eyes under that heavy fringe. He didn't look entirely real. Maybe a mob boss from an old film, with smoke from his cigar curling up to the ceiling; or a cut-throat assassin sitting in a tavern while laughing patrons kept their distance.

The air between them wasn't charged, exactly. If anything it was an insulator; Jounouchi felt like he was crackling under his skin, but none of it was reaching Kaiba, who sat just there, three nonconductive feet away. Unreachable. Untouchable. 

"I wanna fuck again," Jounouchi found himself blurting out. 

_Jounouchi, you fucking idiot._

Cheeks burning and digging his nails into his palms to stop himself burying his head in them, Jounouchi blinked, and then blinked again, and then a few more times when Kaiba just continued to scratch his cat under the chin.

"A general desire of yours," he asked mildly, "or me specifically?" 

"Uh," said Jounouchi as he thought it over. If pressed, he'd pick the first option. But they weren't exactly mutually exclusive. "Both? I like having sex, and you're… not bad at it."

"Truly a rousing speech for the ages," Kaiba remarked. It was impressive that he could communicate the mere concept of a withering glare with his voice. "I can hardly turn down such a thoughtfully made and well presented offer. Shall I contact my legal team, have them draw up an arrangement?" 

An arrangement. Jounouchi thought it was a bit rich ( _ha_ ) for Kaiba to mock his thoroughly thought out business proposal. It was probably an even better deal for him than it was for Jounouchi. Scratch that, it was definitely better. "Well, what about it?" he argued. "You like sex, I like sex; you're not seeing anyone, I'm not seeing anyone; you're hot and I'm—well, you seemed into me enough before." He drummed his fingers on the table. "We could totally get a thing going."

Saggi was still purring loud as anything, but now she was batting at Kaiba’s stilled hand. Kaiba didn't respond immediately, not to her or to Jounouchi. Maybe he was deciding how offended to be at the thought of fucking Jounouchi while sober.

“I don’t date, Jounouchi," Kaiba said finally, each word pronounced with care, eyes still hidden in shadow.

“Whuh? No! Nononono, _not_ what I meant. Just… truckin’ and fuckin,’” Jounouchi hurriedly clarified. "Without the truckin' part." He rolled his eyes away from Kaiba's and let out a short laugh, scratching at the back of his head and looking down at his still layed out cards. He should really pack those up. "I don't wanna date you, my standards aren't _that_ low."

At that, Kaiba blinked once, before sitting back and folding his arms, saying nothing. The only betrayal of his thought process was that he didn't comment on Jounouchi's choice of phrase or insult, which meant he had to be devoting a serious amount of brain power to the offer. Unless he was actually offended, but like, c'mon. Like anything Jounouchi said could hurt him. Kaiba would have to actually give a shit about his opinion for that. 

Kaiba unfolded to take a slow sip of Kirin. "I was unaware you were so practical," he said. 

Jounouchi shrugged, and reached over to pet Saggi himself, feeling the soft fur of her ears. The half-lidded look she gave him told him she allowed it, but he was on thin ice. "You don't exactly know me, Kaiba." 

And it was mutual. Nine years since they’d seen each other, even longer since regularly spending any kind of time in each other’s vicinity, and they hadn’t been close even then. Jounouchi had the odd realisation that he he knew Kaiba in the same way he knew, say, Nobunaga Oda; he had studied him in school, knew his general history, notable achievements, had a vague recollection of his family tree. But he was a figure, not a person. Jounouchi knew _about_ Kaiba, but he didn't know him. He didn’t know what Kaiba’s favourite colour was, if he liked hot or cold weather more, or what pizza toppings he got. Or even if he ate pizza. Shit, what if he didn't eat pizza? Sad bastard. Thank fuck Jounouchi didn't have to like him. 

"No staying the night," Kaiba said suddenly, tugging Jounouchi from his thoughts. "And nothing without prior arrangement."

Neither of those had applied before, but Jounouchi guessed that circumstances had changed a little. "Fine by me."

"...And?" 

Jounouchi cocked his head in confusion at Kaiba's expectant tone. "And what?" 

"You have no stipulations of your own?" 

"Uh." Jounouchi thought for a moment, caught unawares. "My flat has pretty much no room, so I’ll come here. I'm fine with not staying the night as long as I can get home, but if there's like, I dunno, a serious storm or the metro explodes or something, you're not allowed to kick me out."

"Agreed." 

Standing abruptly from his seat, Kaiba stalked to the edge of the kitchen. Jounouchi watched him go with the thought that whatever bonkers amount Kaiba was paying his no doubt personal tailor, it was worth it. A miracle of fabric work, really, because Jounouchi had put his hands on that ass and it hadn't felt _that_ substantial. Still nice though. A nice butt. And stupidly long legs. Seriously, how many miles was that? Could probably get from Osaka to Sapporo in seconds on those things. 

Putting one hand to the last kitchen counter, Kaiba stopped and turned to look at Jounouchi. His bangs needed a trim, technically, falling just over his eyes like that. Jounouchi absolutely did not want them to get one. 

"Well?" Kaiba said expectantly.

They'd had their duels, drank their beer, and now Jounouchi was just loitering in Kaiba's kitchen. Nothing without prior arrangement, and it was pretty late anyway. Time to go. "Right! Right." Reluctantly heaving to his feet, Jounouchi gathered his deck with only a _Roulette_ _Spider_ escaping to the floor. "So, I'll text you? Or you'll text me?" he said, picking up the fallen card and making his way out. "I can do most evenings late with a little warning, but I usually don't work on Sundays so—" 

"What are you doing?" Kaiba interrupted him as he brushed past.

Jounouchi stopped with his foot still in the air, and wobbled a little as he turned and looked up to find himself on the receiving end of the world's tiniest, most confusing frown. "Uh. Leaving?" Did Kaiba want a goodbye kiss or something? Jounouchi felt a bit awkward at the idea of doing that. His head felt a little bit warmer too. 

Kaiba stared down at him. “You mean to tell me," he said, briefly pausing to furrow his brow, "that you harassed me into giving you my number, invited yourself to my apartment with alcohol, proposed we start having casual sex, and you _weren’t_ planning on fucking tonight?” 

When he said it all like that, Jounouchi supposed it _did_ look a bit suspect. He still spluttered in response. “Hey! I didn’t invite myself! And I didn't _plan_ to ask—” Jounouchi cut himself off, and finally put his foot down to step back and look Kaiba up and down. Kaiba, who was currently standing across from him wearing a tight, expensive shirt and a perplexed expression, and had spent the evening drinking beer he said he didn’t like while maintaining full eye contact. “Were _you?_ ”

Kaiba actually looked a little disconcerted, his mouth hanging open for the briefest of moments. It was an expression Jounouchi had seen on him maybe twice before, and it felt incredibly strange to be the cause. “You really just wanted to duel?” 

“Well—yeah.” Jounouchi honestly felt rather offended. Dueling hadn’t been his entire motivation, but it was the easiest part of it to parse, even to himself. “Don't get to play much anymore, but I'm still a duelist," he insisted reproachfully, folding his arms. "Aren't you?"

Kaiba bristled. "Of course. Or did you not notice being beaten three times?" 

Jounouchi pouted. "No need to rub it in."

Another moment of silence rumbled between them, and then Jounouchi realised that it was just Saggi, hopping up onto the counter next to her person, purring like a tractor as Kaiba seemed to instinctively pet her head. Jounouchi came back over to stroke her too, and she got even louder, apparently having decided he was a tolerable enough presence after all. He couldn't really blame her for the initial animosity—Jounouchi didn't imagine Kaiba got many visitors. But what did he know? Jounouchi had never imagined him and Kaiba having a polite agreement to have casual sex either. He'd just imagined the sex part. 

Jounouchi licked his lips and felt a hot crackling low in his abdomen. "Course, if you _wanted_ to go right now…" he trailed off, finishing the sentence with an up and down wiggle of his brows. "We've kinda already started. I mean, we're stroking your pussy together." 

There was a pause, and then Jounouchi started snickering as Kaiba slowly inhaled with a look to the ceiling. Yup, he could still get a kick from annoying the shit out of the guy. "Another rule," Kaiba announced. "No sexual puns involving my cat."

"Spoilsport," Jounouchi grinned. _Now_ they were getting somewhere. "Couch?" 

"Bedroom."

Jounouchi led the way, or at least tried to—the apartment was still too unfamiliar to make his way around in the dark, and Kaiba didn’t seem to deem switching the lights on necessary, once again guiding him with firm touches of his hands. Maybe Jounouchi would eventually be able to find his way around just by feel, but not yet. He was able to find the dimmer in the bedroom by himself at least, and couldn’t help fiddling with it briefly, twisting it on and off, making the room pulse with a warm amber wash. The loud clearing of a throat made him stop, Kaiba giving him a look that clearly communicated that he could throw him out at any second before setting the light himself. Like the previous time, he opted for a low, barely-there glow which blurred out the finer details of the room and its inhabitants. A shame, Jounouchi thought. He would've liked a better look. 

Still, it was light enough to see by, and Jounouchi was able to track Kaiba as he set his tie pin on a dresser, to hunt him down and stop him when he started working on his actual tie. 

“You do like to make things difficult, don’t you,” Kaiba muttered, sounding amused as Jounouchi attacked his belt with hurried hands. 

“Shut up,” Jounouchi huffed into his chest, flinging the belt to the floor. "It's late, you worked me up, and you don't need to get naked for me to suck you dry."

Kaiba snorted and tugged his pants off. "And you said you didn't have a plan," he murmured in a low, teasing voice that Jounouchi guessed was allowed under the circumstances, but would've been illegal in any other situation. 

Huffing and pushing him impatiently to sit on the bed, Jounouchi found kissing Kaiba was even more enjoyable when he didn’t have to deal with that gross whisky taste. He enjoyed the small gasp Kaiba made into his mouth when he put a hand up his shirt, and the twitch against his fingers when he ran that hand down to grope at his dick through his underwear too. Most of all, he enjoyed the full on shudder that travelled all the way through Kaiba’s long, long form when Jounouchi dropped to his knees and tongued. 

Tugging the underwear down those stupid long legs— _yep_ , there were the sock suspenders, held taut around Kaiba's calves. Damn, why was he so into that. "Hot," Jounouchi purred, snapping one strap lightly. Kaiba jumped. "You clean?" 

"Condoms are on the other nightstand," Kaiba said, slightly breathy voice making all kinds of molten feelings wriggle around Jounouchi’s body, making to get up and reach over to the other side of the bed. 

"Good for them." Jounouchi grabbed Kaiba's hips to keep him in place, and moved his attention back up to run his nose along the underside of Kaiba's growing hard on. He was slightly disappointed by how freshly-washed he smelt, but there was a growing hint of sweaty arousal that promised better things. "You clean?" 

"Yes I'm— _ah!_ "

The room was dark, and Jounouchi's eyes wanted to instinctively shut to better concentrate on tonguing the cock between his lips, but he still sneaked a peek upwards to catch Kaiba's head tilting back as he gasped, the smooth line of his jaw emphasised by the motion. If Jounouchi could've grinned, he would've. 

" _Shameless_ ," Kaiba muttered under his breath. 

Jounouchi hummed back in agreement, making Kaiba jerk on his tongue. The hell was the point of agreeing to casually fuck if you were going to bother with things like _shame_? 

Giving head had always been something Jounouchi loved, but giving it to Kaiba, feeling him jerk in his mouth and tug on his hair, was a new kind of high. Jounouchi ran his hands along his thighs, groped his ass to feel his skin and muscles flex, rubbed over his abs and sides and felt beads of sweat trickling down his heated skin. Jounouchi revelled in every tiny helpless reaction almost as much as the leaking weight on his tongue, bobbing his head and licking at what he could reach. Kaiba helped him keep a rhythm with a hand clutching his hair, tugging on his scalp with just enough force to tingle, and Jounouchi leaned into it, encouraging him to go harder.

Kaiba was quieter than the first time, but still responsive. He talked a little, insulting praise and praising insults that made Jounouchi blush and move one hand to frantically rub at himself, but he sighed less, and didn't moan at all. While Jounouchi did have a tendency to talk with his mouth full, he usually didn't have quite that much in it, so he settled for just moaning incoherently instead. 

When Kaiba came, it was without any warning but a hitching gasp, and Jounouchi did his best to swallow it all as his free thumb ran circles around the sharpest hip bone he'd ever felt. 

"How's that?" Jounouchi panted when he leaned back, licking his lips and slowing the hand down his own boxer briefs. 

"Passable," Kaiba panted back. He'd fallen back onto one elbow, shirt thoroughly rumpled and soaked with sweat. "I'd even be inclined to return the favour."

"You…?" Even as Jounouchi felt a surprised thrum of heat flash through his body to glow and throb around his front, he felt the flash of _wrong_ too, even in the dark. "I don't think I can do that right now," Jounouchi shook his head. "Not have someone's face down there." 

"Hmm." Kaiba tilted his head to the side. The dark rendered his eyes completely lost under his fringe, but his tie was loose, his chest heaving slowly, and he held his hand out with the palm upturned

Jounouchi stared at him.

Kaiba jerked his hand impatiently. " _I'm_ not going on the floor," he drawled.

"Oooh, big fancy man, his own floor's not good enough for him," Jounouchi mocked even as he took the offered hand, and then yelped as he was hauled bodily upward, his fingers pulled out of his underwear and replaced with Kaiba's own, long and precise against his burning flesh. Streamers of blood-red heat coursed through Jounouchi's body to meet them, and he ground upwards to try and soothe the heavy ache in his core.

Tossing his head against the mattress, Jounouchi felt his eyelids flutter, Kaiba leaning over him on one elbow and watching with his eyes almost gleaming in the warm dark. Breath stroked Jounouchi's jaw as Kaiba bent his head down to rumble into his ear. "Hard just from that, hm?"

A boiling current of arousal ripped through Jounouchi like a whip crack, making him twist into the sheets. 

Of all things, Kaiba paused, almost like hesitation. Jounouchi whined in frustration, grabbing Kaiba's hand with his own and pressing himself into it impatiently. "Don't fucking _stop,_ it's good _._ "

"Hmph," Kaiba said with a smirk in his voice, starting to move again with. "Impatient mutt."

The pads of his fingers and low growl of his words were soothing and burning all at once, and Jounouchi rolled over to bury his face into the crook of his elbow, to wrap one arm around his shoulder in some vain grasp for stability. He didn't bother to stop any of the pants and gasps and swears pouring from his mouth as he practically humped Kaiba's hand, moaning loud and long into his skin when he came. 

"Funny," Kaiba murmured as Jounouchi caught his breath, as they lay tangled together on the bed under a cover of sweat in place of sheets. 

"What?" Jounouchi asked diligently, hauling himself up with no small amount of effort, because if he lay there any longer he risked actually nodding off. Instead, he looked down at Kaiba, lying beneath him—shirt still on and a mess, tie tugged loose, hair ruffled and skin sweaty, those fucking sock suspenders on the end of each ridiculous leg. Gorgeous. Would it be weird to lean down and kiss him?

"In all the time we've spent in each others' vicinity, this is the first time you've had a decent idea," Kaiba said mildly, disentangling himself to swish towards the en suite bathroom. “Of course, _I_ am the one that gave it to you.”

Jounouchi considered being offended, but decided that there was a far more productive way to respond. "You could say you're," he paused for dramatic effect, "rubbing off on me! _Ooooooh!_ "

Being that he was now in another room, Kaiba wasn't really able to appreciate the finger guns pointed in his direction, but Jounouchi did it anyway. 

"Get out of my apartment, moron."

With the slick, smooth mechanics of a Duel Disk, or maybe a Transformer, Jounouchi's hands twisted to flip Kaiba off. "See you 'round, douchebag!" he called out as he pulled his own jeans back up, padding a hand along the wall of the hallway until he found the button that would ensure Kaiba didn't trip over his handsome corpse at the bottom of the stairs in the morning. 

Jounouchi grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen on his way out. Still sitting on the table, Saggi watched him with narrowed eyes as he drank it, before splashing more water over his face and washing his hands. She magnanimously allowed a few seconds of petting before dropping down and slinking away with her tail in the air, leaving Jounouchi with only the faint sound of the shower from upstairs for company. 

Tugging his shoes on and leaving a great deal later than he'd thought he would, Jounouchi left the remaining beer for next time, still wrapping his head around the fact that there would be a next time. Maybe they couldn't grab breakfast or catch a movie, but Jounouchi knew where they stood now. As he wrapped himself up in blankets and his arms around his pink oversized scapegoat plush at around midnight, he mused that Kaiba was right. It _was_ pretty funny. Maybe not for the reason he'd said, but pretty funny all the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me trying to write sex scenes: [throwing in random words relating to heat] is this good??? is this a fun sexy time???? why did i decide to write a fwb fic
> 
> kaiba im sorry for publishing this on ur bday. u deserved something happier. like the [bday fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336709) i wrote for u and published in may for some fucking reason


	5. Kicking About in a Bed of Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _To kick [something] into the long grass_ • To refuse to deal with something immediately, often because it will create problems.  
>  _A bed of roses_ • An easy, comfortable, or luxurious situation.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Jounouchi starts seeing Kaiba regularly, and it's perfectly casual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for E rated bits scattered about the place and brief parental abuse talk near the end. also this mostly hasn't been beta'd so if theres any obvious stuff i need to fix lemme know!

Cherry blossoms littered the rural areas of Domino for the briefest of days as the city meandered through spring with a comfortably lazy attitude. April turned into May, and Jounouchi breathed in the mild weather, crisp like a fresh apple, warm without the humidity that would weigh heavy once summer arrived. The crowds of tourists could be annoying, but Jounouchi liked watching them wheel around with their cameras and their guidemaps, out of place and in awe of things he didn’t really think about. He’d probably be the same if he went where they lived too, talking too loud and buying things he didn’t need, because he was on holiday, so he could. 

But Jounouchi wasn’t on holiday, so life continued as normal. He went to work, he rotated Shoot so she grew correctly. The only thing that was different was that he regularly visited Kaiba's apartment for a casual fuck. 

_(—panting and skin smacking against skin filled the air, Jounouchi held down by one hand against his left shoulder blade as he was fucked with precise, pistoning rhythm. Without the energy or freedom do anything but swear and squirm, Jounouchi moaned happily, his right cheek rubbing against soft, silky sheets, gasping when Kaiba leant down to sink teeth into—)_

Busy as he was, it turned out Kaiba was a creature of habits and strict schedules, so they set a regular day. Sunday was the one day of the week Jounouchi didn’t go into the office at all, so they made an arrangement; Sunday evenings at eight, unless something else came up, Jounouchi would visit Kaiba’s apartment, they’d get their rocks off, and then he’d leave again with slightly more wobbly legs than he'd walked in with. No muss, no fuss, just two people meeting up and getting off. 

It was perfect. There wasn’t any of the pressure to take it slow like in a real relationship because they both knew what they were there for, skipping the awkward ' _hi_ 's and ' _how are you_ 's to get right to the fun stuff. Jounouchi would bring his own cheap alcohol, or Kaiba would break out one of his more expensive bottles; they'd have a glass or two, and then they'd take it upstairs because Kaiba seemed to like things contained no matter how much Jounouchi prodded him about maybe doing it on the sofa, maybe even the table. Loosening up after the stresses of the week, they'd have a duel while they drank, which they both agreed was better foreplay anyway. 

_(—call this a strategy?" Kaiba mocked as Jounouchi rolled a one for Roulette Spider, forcing him to halve his own life points. "I could beat you blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back."_

_"Yeah? Well I could ride your dick with both hands behind my back," Jounouchi shot back before his brain could stop him._

_Eyes briefly widening, Kaiba recovered quickly. "Perhaps later, mutt," Kaiba assured him, smirk sliding firmly back into place; promising—)_

Jounouchi had almost forgotten how much he loved the game—and he still needed to beat Kaiba after all. He'd even started surreptitiously thumbing through card packs again when he visited Yuugi (what in the hell was 'pendulum' summoning?), although he hadn’t told his friend anything about what he and Kaiba were doing. He might've gotten the wrong impression.

_(—Jounouchi’s head fell back against Kaiba’s shoulder, pressing his bound arms into his chest; the silky ties wound tight around his wrists, binding each to the opposite elbow, kept his arms folded behind his back. Moaning, Jounouchi tried to rock himself up and down, but he didn’t have the right leverage to properly fuck himself on the cock inside him, succeeding only in clenching and swiveling his hips a little. “C’mon,” he whimpered as Kaiba licked another bead of sweat off his neck, “just fucking touch me already.”_

_“I am touching you,” Kaiba panted, moving his own hips ever so slightly. His hands continued roaming their ways around his skin, gliding over his chest to tweak at his nipples, scratched across his abdomen with short nails and squeezed his thighs, but refused to go anywhere truly satisfying. Jounouchi felt the curving lips brush against his ear. "If you want anything more, you'll stop whining and do what you're here for."_

_Whining, Jounouchi did his best to rock back and forth, desperately seeking friction against his burning front. Tossing his head in thrilled frustration, he vaguely noticed through the haze of his arousal that Kaiba's bedroom walls were striped, with one tall stripe running along the bottom and a shorter one spreading to the ceiling. In the low light, he couldn't tell what colour they were, but the thought soon vanished anyway—)_

Jounouchi was always an exhausted, dripping mess by the time they were done, but luckily so was Kaiba, so he could usually muster the energy to drag himself to the shower without getting yelled at to hurry up. Magnanimously, Kaiba let him wash first in the name of getting rid of him faster. To Jounouchi's amusement and dismay, Kaiba would often spend the time waiting for him to be done making the room stink of whatever his vape flavour of the week was—amusement because Jounouchi could mock him mercilessly for it, and dismay because Jounouchi found himself developing a Pavlovian response to it all. If he really started getting turned on by vaping of all things, Jounouchi was fully going to have to call it quits. 

Getting to use Kaiba's bathroom was, in all honesty, a strong contender for the best part of the whole arrangement. Huge, pristine, panelled in dark grey stone and black wood. Separate sections for the washing and the shitting. The shower could be turned up to a jet powerful enough to extinguish a burning building, and then hot enough to set it on fire again. Then there was the tub—oh, the tub. Enormous. Circular. Set into a raised section of floor in front of the wide window that looked out on the city and the ocean. It was practically a jacuzzi. At least, Jounouchi assumed it was. He never actually got in it, having to just stare longingly as he hosed himself down and got out fast. But maybe one day he would take his chances, complain of sore muscles, and Kaiba would let him get in the tub. One day. 

_(—screech bounced off the stone walls as he jumped in shock, barely catching the rail to stop himself slipping towards a brutal impact with the floor. A dark, wet blur streaked away from him and out the door with a caterwaul of its own._

_"I told you to shut the door properly!" Kaiba called from the other room._

_"I did! I swear to God, she's got paws like Houdini!" Jounouchi hollered back. When he finished up and emerged again, it was to find Kaiba glaring at him while he toweled off his stupid cat, who should fucking know better than to sneak up on him in the shower—)_

Or, Jounouchi supposed, they could just clean off together. But that felt weird. "Hey, can we shower together so I can splash about in your fancy ass tub and then get bored after four seconds?" was not a question he felt comfortable asking.

Even so. Jounouchi didn't like to admit when Kaiba was right, but the whole thing really was one of his better impulsive ideas. Beat the time he'd tested if he could stop himself crying while cutting onions via overexposure in the form of close contact, that was for damn sure. 

The mundanity of penciling out a Sunday evening to screw each other's brains out would've had Jounouchi laughing if it didn't work so damn well. They knew each other well enough to be comfortable, but not so well it felt awkward, and Jounouchi didn’t have to worry that Kaiba would ditch him when they weren’t dating in the first place, so Jounouchi could be as annoying as he liked—which towards Kaiba was very annoying indeed. Plus, it wasn't like Kaiba didn't give as good as he got. Jounouchi spent a lot of what exchanges they had spluttering for responses to smooth toned insults and snide comments, some of which Jounouchi in all honesty didn't entirely understand, but could tell were taunts because it was Kaiba saying them in that deep, rumbling voice of his. 

All the while, Domino jogged its way towards summer with a steady, sweaty pace. The air got hotter and more and more humid, Jounouchi considered getting one of those fancy, old fashioned hand fans to cool himself for when summer really set in. Increasingly longer days let more light filter into Kaiba's bedroom, settling over his furniture like a soft gauze sheet. Jounouchi could see it in more detail, the walls two-toned, with a tall, brown stripe the same colour as the wooden furniture along the bottom, and a deep, dusty burgundy that covered the ceiling along the top. 

_(—what…?" Jounouchi felt rather than heard Kaiba ask as he paused, fingers suddenly turning from sensual to scrutinising, turning Jounouchi to better shed light on his tattooed shoulder._

_"Like what you see?" Jounouchi asked, wiggling said shoulder invitingly and turning to throw a wink._

_"I could tell you had something here before but… a_ leek _, Jounouchi?" Kaiba said incredulously._

_Jounouchi liked it when Kaiba said his name. He made it sound really nice, no matter what his tone was. "Honda had to cancel when I was already in town. I was bored." Jounouchi shrugged. "An' hungry."_

_Kaiba let out an audible sigh as he rummaged in a bedside cabinet. "You're an idiot. Do you ever think before doing_ anything? _"_

 _"Don't be an ass," Jounouchi frowned, and then gasped when he was shoved down by a hand on the small of his back. "S'not_ that _bad." The irritation resided for a while more, but Jounouchi couldn't find it in himself to be properly mad, not when—)_

May morphed into June, with rainy days and the buzzing fanfare of houseflies zooming in through open windows and promptly forgetting how to leave, causing Jounouchi to engage in whining arguments with them as he tried to shepherd them out. Yuugi’s birthday fell on the fourth—and not just any birthday, but the big three-zero. Thirty years old. Not just a twenty-something anymore, Yuugi was inarguably an _Adult_ with a capital _A_. Ryou was in town, Honda came on the train, and an insistent Anzu flew in all the way from San Francisco to barrel into them all with a hug tight enough to break steel, having just been looking for an excuse. 

On the Saturday, they all sat in their old booth at Burger World, the restaurant kept afloat possibly by Yuugi and Jounouchi’s own patronage. Even Kaiba turned up, walking in late and handing Yuugi a thin, Dark Magician themed gift-bag with a gruff _happy birthday_. It turned out to contain heavily vetted dossiers on potential employees to look after Kame Game while Yuugi took an all expenses paid holiday to a destination of his choice, at a time of his choice, resulting in Kaiba getting wrapped in an awkward hug—which to Jounouchi's surprise he didn't seem at all annoyed by.

"If you wish anyone to go with you, I can have them kidnapped at a moment's notice," Kaiba said instead, a smirk breaking out onto his features. 

"Then _you're_ joining me!" Yuugi immediately declared. "And Ryou. And Jou, and Anzu, and Honda. It'll be like old times! Let's all go to Egypt—and then somewhere we've never been! France or India or—ooh, Iceland! I want to see the lava fields, and the frozen lakes, and the northern lights and the dick museum."

"The entire troupe?" Kaiba sighed, and pulled a disgusted face. "Very well. Organise the dates amongst yourselves. I trust you are all willing and I will not need to deploy Isono."

Honda leaned over to whisper in Jounouchi's ear. "Are they being serious? I can't tell if they're being serious."

It really was difficult to tell, but going to Iceland sounded _sick_. Going on Kaiba’s cards? Even better. "I hope so," Jounouchi whispered back. "I wanna see this dick museum." 

Food was eaten and occasionally thrown, songs sung with arms around each other—with the exception of Kaiba, who took it upon himself to conduct with graceful hands—and eventually cake was brought forth from within the bowels of the kitchen, on the house for a loyal customer. 

“So how’s it feel, old man?” Jounouchi said, ruffling the birthday man’s hair after he'd blown out the candles. “Wiser? Smarter? Need to piss more? Take up knitting?”

Smiling, Yuugi laughed as he cut the first slice. “Honestly? Exactly the same. Weird, right?”

He didn't look much different, Jounouchi had to concede. The hair was still a vibrant explosion even after all these years, although the colours had gone through various shifts. The back of the mass was usually drawn into a ponytail, but today he’d opted for a return to a matte-waxed version of the spikes of old, with the heavy eyeliner to match. Yuugi had decided it was an occasion for dusting purple glitter over eyelids—not just his own, but Jounouchi's too. He’d taken just a small portion of what he’d used on himself and given each of Jounouchi’s eyelids a light smear going outwards. When he’d been proudly shown himself in a hand mirror, Jounouchi had blinked self-consciously at himself. The stuff clung to his skin and lashes, vibrant and delicate, and he’d felt both embarrassed and pleased all at once.

_(—new look, I see,” Kaiba commented in a low tone after fending off greetings, eyes flicking over his floral short-sleeve shirt and sparkling eyes._

_Automatically going to rub his eyelid and having to stop himself, Jounouchi felt a flush blossom over his cheeks. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, folding his arms. “I think I look nice, and so does Yuugi. So there.”_

_Kaiba cocked his head for a second, then opened his mouth as if to say something, but then Anzu demanded his attention. “Yes, Mazaki?—)_

Watching Kaiba perch himself on the edge of the group, opposite to his spot in the booth corner, Jounouchi couldn’t help but feel annoyance at the developing conversation. Apparently Kaiba and Anzu hadn’t been entirely out of touch—if he found out Honda had been chatting with him behind his back as well, there’d be hell to pay. As for his own exchanges with the guy, Jounouchi found that maybe their eyes met a bit more than they used to. Part of him had been kinda expecting Kaiba to blank him around the others, but he didn’t. Jounouchi even got his own nod goodbye when Kaiba left early, politely declining the invite to the good old fashioned slumber party section of the night with a farewell of “As I am not a five year old: Later, losers.” 

“Yeah, see you round, asshole!” Jounouchi called after him with a shake of his head. Stuck up bastard still didn't know how to just have fun. 

Whatever. Yuugi seemed unbothered, and it was Kaiba’s loss—Jounouchi's blanket fort making skills were second to none. And over the billowing walls and roofs of his palace hung his, Anzu's, and Honda's own gifts to Yuugi—specially commissioned works from artists Yuugi liked: of the group of them with Grandpa and Atem, the Dark Magician, and of Yuugi's rosy boa snake, Noodle. 

“Welcome to your thirties, Yuugi,” Honda greeted dramatically after the clock struck midnight, arms outstretched with a solemn air as they all lay in heaps of cushions and blankets. He’d turned thirty himself in April, and decided against having a physical get together with the usually spread-out old school gang himself. Jounouchi and Yuugi had gone to his more general party with his Tokyo crowd instead. “Now we gotta settle down, get married, and try and counter our aging population.”

Yuugi giggled. “With each other? I don’t think we’d be very productive.” 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Ryou objected mildly, stroking Yuugi's hair as they lay snuggled up together like a pair of kittens. 

"How is… Jingyi, wasn't it?" Anzu asked dutifully from where she and Noodle communed next to his tank. Once released into her arms, he had immediately attempted to slither into her chest. "You've been dating two months, right?" 

Jounouchi grumbled and folded his arms while Honda immediately started gushing about his new beau. He was happy for his friend, he _was,_ but man, Honda got in deep quick. Not as bad as he used to be—he at least waited until they were _actually_ dating now—but everyone he went out with, he insisted was 'the one.' Honda had had a fair few ‘ones’, and while he was always a total wreck after the break up. Then he'd go and do it all again. Jounouchi didn't know how he did it. 

"...I think he's the _one,_ guys," Honda sighed happily, and Jounouchi and Anzu made eye contact and couldn't help grinning at each other. 

"Like how Miho was the one?" Jounouchi teased. "And Ichijo?" 

"And Yosuke?" added Anzu. 

"And Natalia?" Yuugi piped in. 

"And—" 

"So I've had a lot of ones!" Honda cut them off indignantly. “I’m a loving guy! _You_ could stand to have a few ones, Jou, we've all had at least _one_ one.”

"Maybe I'd have a shot, if you stopped hogging them all," Jounouchi joked, biting back the response that actually, he was perfectly happy as a self-sufficient modern man with a fuck buddy, thank you. Who needed a ‘one’ when he already had a completely comfortable arrangement?

_(—still had a snore that could be mistaken for a pig nosing around for truffles. Lying back to back with Honda, Jounouchi yawned as he surreptitiously did a social media cycle on his phone under his blanket. TV show meme, petition, food pic, random thought snippet; nothing caught his eye, until—ha! Wasn't Kaiba a scorpio? That fit him pretty good._

_Smiling, Jounouchi automatically copied the link, as he did with things for his friends. He opened his text thread with Kaiba, biting his lip as he scrolled through time confirmations and scheduling, and a few other things that had garnered curt responses—Blue-Eyes fanart, a cat video, a stupid tiktok that had been intended for Anzu that Kaiba had replied to with a single question mark._

_Sighing, Jounouchi leaned up to push his pillow around a bit before tucking his phone underneath it. Yuugi released another snort from his nostrils—)_

Jounouchi didn't see Kaiba again that weekend for their usual. Time was precious with everyone around for only a scant few days, and they all wanted to squeeze whatever they could out of the weekend, even though it poured with an unrelenting rain that made inch-deep rivers of all the roads. On Monday, Jounouchi rolled into work with a slight cold and used the fancy printer on the fifth floor to produce a new addition to his cube wall: Yuugi's 30th at Burger World. Kaiba had finally made it onto the board. 

It was an odd week after the gang dispersed again, Anzu wiping away tears as she said goodbye at the airport before disappearing into security. Jounouchi's flat felt startlingly quiet in a way that he hadn't noticed before. The days went slowly at first, agonisingly slowly, then rapid fast and suddenly it was the weekend and Jounouchi hadn't done half the things he needed to do. 

So it was the second Sunday of June when, after arriving very late and practically dragging Kaiba to his own room, Jounouchi’s stomach interrupted them by making a rather loud growl just as he was being slowly pressed into the mattress. 

Not the most sensual of noises, and the hand rubbing along Jounouchi’s back paused. “Sorry,” Jounouchi said sheepishly. “I’m fine. Just ignore it.” He accompanied the words with an impatient wiggle of his hips, and Kaiba slowly resumed kneading his fingers towards his ass. Not nearly fast enough—Kaiba was acting oddly hesitant. _C’mon,_ Jounouchi thought, an odd mixture of turned on and somewhat distracted. 

His stomach gurgled again. Much louder. And longer. A good five seconds longer at least. 

The mattress beneath shifted as Kaiba withdrew completely, and Jounouchi turned over to find him kneeling back with a questioning look. “Look, I promised I’d do some stuff for my neighbours, and didn’t have time to eat before getting here,” he explained to his unimpressed fuck buddy, flopping onto his back. “It’ll settle down in a minute. Probably.” Jounouchi had for a large part of his life been used to going long stretches without much in the way of substantial food. He’d be fine.

Jounouchi's stomach made another, shorter growl that had something of a rattling quality. Kaiba said nothing, just stared at him with an odd twist in his lower lip; a tiny little thing that looked out of place on him. 

“Didn’t wanna cancel,” Jounouchi found himself mumbling in explanation. “I hate cancelling on people.” 

And, well, Jounouchi _had_ been looking forward to having his brains fucked out. They'd skipped the previous week after all. Dinner could wait until after. 

Kaiba continued staring, then muttered something to himself before reaching for the nightstand. "What do you eat?" he asked brusquely. 

Jounouchi tilted his head up in confusion to properly look at Kaiba, to find his thumbs tapping away at his phone as he sat back on his heels. "Uh. I. Food?" 

"Food, yes, mutt eat food, yum," Kaiba said in a mock caveman voice, rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers in front of Jounouchi’s face without looking up. “ _What_ food, imbecile?” 

"You want to get me food?" Jounouchi said, bewildered. 

At that, Kaiba did look up, with the most withering glare Jounouchi had ever seen him produce, and that was saying something. “I would ask if you’re always this dense, but unfortunately I already know the answer. Now what. Do. You. _Want?_ ”

“Uh.” Jounouchi blinked. “Pizza?” 

Suddenly, Jounouchi was flinching at a bright phone screen being shoved in his face. “ _Don’t_ take it. Just touch,” Kaiba growled.

The rectangle of light was startlingly bright in the low light of the bedroom. And blurry. "You know I can't read shit without glasses," Jounouchi reminded him. "Just get me a pepperoni with stuffed crust."

The phone was retracted with a grunt, and Jounouchi blinked as he adjusted back to the semi-dark. The room fell into silence except for the occasional noise from his own stomach and a single gulp from his own throat as he watched Kaiba scroll up and down the menu, tapping, his thumbs becoming a flurry of activity as he scowled at the phone in his hands, perhaps typing some specific ridiculous demand to the poor workers of whatever place they were ordering from. He was cast into a spectral appearance by the light; white-blue from directly below and faint yellow-amber from one of the bedside lamps. It smoothed over his arms, his chest, his long legs folded beneath him, but made the contours of his face harsh and inscrutable. Not that Kaiba was ever not inscrutable. 

Jounouchi wasn’t sure how long Kaiba took, other than it was strangely long. It was as if those seconds, those minutes, existed somewhere adjacent to the rest of time, surreally still and silent. Jounouchi didn't move, except perhaps to breathe, but even that felt like a disturbance. It was like a photograph—not looking at one so much, but taking one, being one, being the process of becoming one; one of those old timey things in black and white, soft and grainy and smooth all at once, with dark, cigarette burn spots and strange, pale wisps of white and grey. The ones that you keep expecting, impossibly, to move. But they don't, and that's almost more unsettling. 

Then, like the blinding flash of the camera, Kaiba surged up without warning, pulling his clothes back on and leaving Jounouchi blinking spots from his eyes. 

“You don’t wanna do anything?” Jounouchi asked, propping himself up on his elbows, watching as Kaiba’s bare skin disappeared behind a pair of pants Jounouchi thought were really too skinny to be lounging around at home in, and a soft, thin jumper with a neck just wide enough to glimpse collarbone. Seriously, did the guy never just wear sweatpants and a t-shirt? Sometimes Jounouchi wondered if he could get away with going through his closet while he wasn’t looking.

“Not _now_ ,” Kaiba huffed, sliding his feet into slippers. “I am not competing with your stomach.” 

Getting up and slipping his own clothes on, Jounouchi fumbled with his jeans button, hyper-aware of Kaiba watching him impatiently from the doorway. 

Jounouchi hadn’t brought his deck, denying them the usual duel while they waited. Instead they ended up watching some news channel the TV was already tuned to, Jounouchi being given a stern warning to get his feet off the table if he wanted to keep them. Rather than focus on the reporters taking up the screen, Jounouchi snuck glances at his companion out of the corner of his eye, four feet away with his legs neatly folded, perfectly still. The gap yawned at him, steadfast and immovable. If it had been with Yuugi, or Honda, or even Ryuzaki and his collection of novelty dinosaur bongs (those things were legitimately incredible, and Jounouchi was madly jealous), there wouldn't have been a gap. Or there might've been, but it would've stretched and shortened like elastic, effortlessly adjusting without thought. 

The pizza arrived, a whole lot fancier than Jounouchi was used to—hell, it looked like it had been made from scratch, the base unevenly circular with bumps around the ridiculously thin crust where it had been folded. Trust Kaiba to order from some fancy place that refused to accept that Italians may be the pizza originators, but they didn't perfect the art. Jounouchi didn't even know places like that did stuffed crust. Maybe he'd been wrongly thinking ill of them all these years. 

Thankfully, Kaiba had ordered something for himself too. Much to Jounouchi's disgust, he was one of those rich people who didn't understand that pizza was supposed to be an unhealthy, greasy mess of cheese. Instead, Jounouchi had to watch, as fascinated as he was repulsed, as Kaiba ate a blasphemous creation which had, honest to God, a hole in the middle filled with rocket and spinach salad and a single poached egg. To think he had been worried about Kaiba not liking pizza at all when this horror existed. The thing had to be eaten with _cutlery._ On a _plate._ At a _table._ A _pizza._ With _cutlery._

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Jounouchi still gaped as Kaiba took another dainty bite of abomination, watching in fascination with both elbows on the table. “Why can’t you just get stuffed crust like a regular human being?”

Kaiba took a sip of the wine he’d gotten out. Another weirdly nice white, made with elderflowers. Jounouchi almost felt bad he was having it with pepperoni. Almost. “Not everyone likes getting stuffed to the degree you do,” Kaiba informed him. 

The room was quiet for five whole seconds before Jounouchi burst out laughing and Kaiba's deadpan expression cracked, always more ready to find amusement in his own jokes than anyone else’s. 

Taking a bite of deliciously cheese-filled dough that he had to repeatedly bat an intrigued Saggi away from, Jounouchi asked, “Have you ever actually tried it? Either one.”

“Not the crust,” Kaiba begrudgingly admitted. “The other has its merits.”

Jounouchi thought about this for a second. And then a few more seconds. 

“Do you have a prosthetic?” Kaiba asked, almost absentmindedly, putting his palm over his cat’s face to make her back away from the food without actually shoving her. 

Snorting at the clinical phrase, Jounouchi took another slice of pizza. With his hands. Because that was how you were supposed to eat it. “A strap on? Yeah, but,” he scratched his neck as he chewed, “don’t use it much.”

“Oh?” Kaiba’s knife scraped a little against his plate as he continued to cut himself neat, even bites. 

Huffing, Jounouchi slumped back in his chair. This really wasn't something he wanted to get into. Too exposing. “Why’re you asking, anyway?”

The raised eyebrow Kaiba sent his way made clear both what he thought of that question and what the answer was. 

Jounouchi blushed. “Uh, really?”

“Really,” Kaiba drawled. 

Licking his lips nervously, Jounouchi attempted to wrap his head around it. A vision of Kaiba beneath him, flushed and writhing, dove through his mind like a swallow swooping past a window, like the brief overwhelming flash of a lamp in a tunnel, passed at breakneck speed; brief and startling, and never in isolation. 

Shifting in his seat, Jounouchi hooked one foot around a chair leg and shoved another pizza slice into his mouth. “Never thought about that,” he said honestly, and at Kaiba’s clinically curious tilt of the head, added, “Just don’t top much myself, didn’t even occur to me.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve noticed your predilection for having someone else in charge. Rest assured, deadbeat, that would not be changing. Saggi, you can’t eat that, Jounouchi’s put his hands on it and we know where they’ve been.” 

Startling, Jounouchi realised there was currently a cat standing right next to his near-empty pizza box with her pupils big as planets, tail flicking question marks in the air. “C’mon, look at those kitty-cat eyes,” he cooed, scratching her on the head. “Maybe she can have a little bit?”

The sudden warning glare in Kaiba’s eyes promised a swift but painful ending to not only Jounouchi’s life, but also his entire existence if he continued this line of thought. 

“Fine, you then,” Jounouchi decided, and tore off his last piece of crust to thrust it at Kaiba, whose head jerked back with a cross-eyed expression that had Jounouchi grinning. “Here. You’re not going a lifetime without trying stuffed crust, not on Katsuya Jounouchi’s watch.”

Begrudgingly taking the offered morsel, Kaiba eyed it with overly dramatic skepticism before popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Not completely awful,” he decreed. 

“Just admit it,” Jounouchi said, still grinning, offering one pizza-dusted hand for Saggi to lick, “it’s better than your butthole salad.”

Kaiba didn’t seem impressed. “But far more likely to give me diarrhea.”

“Eh, you’re already full of shit. Might be an idea to get some of it out,” Jounouchi pointed out wisely. With no pizza left, he was at somewhat of a loss, unable to distract himself from the odd fluttering feeling in his chest, like a moth flitting around and leaving dust traces in its wake. He drummed his fingers on the table. “So… tha—” 

"Now that you’re done, perhaps we can get back to our first order of business,” Kaiba interrupted him, decisively unfolding and taking his plate and cutlery to the dishwasher almost faster than the eye could see, Jounouchi left sitting at the table with his mouth still hanging open. “Those wretched noises you were producing were a complete turn off."

The moth in his chest was heavy as it settled on the surface of stomach. Jounouchi flicked his pizza box shut and finished his own glass of wine. “Right. Where were we?”

* * *

So that’s how it was. Sunday evenings. They got takeout when Jounouchi didn’t have time to eat, playing games or dueling while they waited, slowly working their way through local places as they sat at Kaiba's dining table; then in the main room, Kaiba sitting neatly seiza at the table, and Jounouchi lounging in the armchair with his legs swung over the armrest to idly watch TV as they ate, arguing about the shitty dramas they found when Kaiba could be persuaded from the news. 

Then they’d relocate to the bedroom, Jounouchi flinging off the extra layers he’d have to bring to put on once he entered the penthouse, because Kaiba always kept the air conditioning so damn low. It was kinda fun in a way, putting on clothes just to throw them off again. Maybe Kaiba's drama was rubbing off on him, although admittedly Kaiba's tendencies towards dangling himself out of helicopters had tempered somewhat, having been traded in for a thumbed cat to pet like a Bond villain and a dragon themed e-cig to make atmospheric smoke with. He could almost pass for a normal human being, Jounouchi thought, if it weren't for that… what was the phrase? A certain _je ne sais quoi?_ Like the moment he entered a room, there was just a bit less oxygen. Like the wind was always fluttering his long coat around, even if he was inside and actually wearing those dumb navy silk pajamas no one really owned in real life. Like even if he wasn't physically wearing leather pants, it still _felt_ like he was wearing leather pants. Or something. 

" _Or_ _something_. That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard you say, and you've said a lot of dumb shit," Shizuka told him when she came to visit, leaning over the promenade railing with her long dress waving in the breeze, racing to finish her watermelon ice cream bar before the heat melted it down. 

Having already beaten the sun to the finish line with an impressive lead, Jounouchi was making do with twirling the wooden stick in his fingers. "Hey, I'm trying to pour my heart out here. Spill my deepest, most terrible secrets," he pouted. He had to tell _someone_. 

"Pour your heart out? I thought it was a no-strings-attached thing."

"It is!" 

Shizuka looked at Jounouchi narrowly over her popsicle and took a skeptical lick. They’d ended up the exact same height, and Jounouchi missed when he’d been able to put his chin on her head. Oh well, he’d always have Yuugi. "And it's a secret?" 

"Yes! No. Yes?" Jounouchi turned to the ocean as he struggled to figure out an answer. The ocean didn't help. Stupid ocean. "It’s not like we made blood oaths not to tell another living soul, but… I don’t know. He hasn’t told me not to, but it still feels like I shouldn’t say anything?"

Jounouchi tapped his popsicle stick against his knuckles three times before discontentedly sticking it between his teeth to chew on. They stood on the boardwalk, overlooking the concrete sands of Domino beach. Summer heat meant it was finally socially acceptable for Jounouchi to break out the jorts and the shirts he'd cut the sleeves off of, and he intended to make the most of it. Below them, people sat chattering and drinking at the bars and cafes nestled under the raised walk. Large, logo-covered parasols protected customers from the sun, and the siblings liked to take in the free show of seagulls attempting to perch on their smooth, sloping surfaces, but always sliding downwards on their webbed feet and having to flap away again. 

The vantage point also triggered the juvenile impulse to spit on people's heads, but Jounouchi was an adult and didn't pull that kind of shit anymore. Damn, it was tempting though. There was a bald guy just within range whose scalp could've used just a _bit_ more shine. 

"Well, I dunno," Shizuka huffed, jerking him away from the temptation of an easy target. "Think about it. Are you not telling people because it's private, or because there's nothing serious enough to need to tell people?" 

"The second, I guess?" Jounouchi sighed. "But I dunno. Feel like everyone will be mad at me for not telling them if it gets out."

"But not at Kaiba?" 

"Well, he's Kaiba, he'll get away with it."

Shizuka snorted. "Yeah. Never the friendliest guy, was he. But… you _just_ bone? That's literally it?"

"Well…" Jounouchi sighed, taking a deep breath of salty air. 

_(—desperately tried to grind whatever relief he could get, to no avail. The smooth silicone and pleather pressed and tightly against his groin and hips made pressure constant without any friction, and Jounouchi was sure he was going to go insane from the sensation, with so little to soothe the maddening burn within at the sight of Kaiba sweating and panting on top of him._

_One of Kaiba’s hands shifted from their places on Jounouchi’s chest to stroke himself, letting out a rare, quiet groan of pleasure. Jounouchi swore nonsense he was barely aware of, clinging to Kaiba's sharp hips, stroking along his flanks, the oddly warm moth in his chest fluttering in time to Kaiba’s own juddering skin. Exertion make the veins on Kaiba's arms rise like tree roots running underground, and Jounouchi moved one hand to stroke along an underarm—)_

"...Yeah, that's it," Jounouchi answered, and watched as a seagull slid down a parasol with a particular lack of dignity. 

Then he made himself laugh. "I mean, can you imagine?" Jounouchi gestured to the scene before them with wide arms and a grin. A seagull slid down to the edge of a parasol on webbed feet and flapped its way back up again. "What am I gonna do, take him to the beach? He's a vampire. Go around hissing at people, wearing one of those old timey stripey things so he wouldn't burn to a crisp." Jounouchi visualised the image of Kaiba in a ridiculous full body bathing costume, and was dismayed to realise he'd be into it. Fuck's sake. Those legs would look good in anything. 

Oblivious to his plight, Shizuka laughed too. "Okay, yeah, I see your point. But he could always maintain strength by feeding off unsuspecting tourists."

Jounouchi tried not to make a noise in response, but silence does occasionally speak louder than words. 

Having been his sibling for all these long years, Shizuka easily read his mind. "Don't. Stop fantasising about your boyfriend draining you of life, there are children around."

"I'm trying not to! You're the one that said it!" Jounouchi spluttered in a squawk that actually had a seagull perched on the railing nearby cock its head at him in assessment. "And he's _not_ my boyfriend," he added in a quieter tone. 

"Fine, your enemy with benefits," Shizuka waved him off with an exasperated hand, and returned her attention to her nearly evaporated popsicle, auburn ponytail fluttering. "Thought you were tired of that kind of thing." 

"I mean…" Jounouchi wavered, teetering between different honesties. He was actually still trying with that, despite what he'd told Yuugi. It was just… not resulting in much, especially with his one free day already having the evening pencilled out. Jounouchi hated cancelling on people. "I might as well mess around with moneybags while I'm still fishing, y'know? I mean, you've seen him. He's an asshole, but _damn_.”

“...I guess he's kinda okay looking,” Shizuka acknowledged, and Jounouchi could feel his sister's skeptical look burning into the side of his face. "If it works for you, then it works, I don't think you need to make any big announcements,” she said eventually. "You've had way worse ideas, anyway. Remember when you tried making a swing in the kitchen and pulled the ceiling down?" 

Snorting, Jounouchi watched people's heads bob up and down in the water. "What can I say, my creative visions could not be contained," he boasted blandly. In his defence, it had seemed like a good idea. School had been out, parents both occupied, what was he supposed to do? It had been a case of try to build a swing on the ceiling or vibrate through the walls. He shook his head and quaked at the memory. "I thought Mom was gonna kill me."

"Thank God Dad was able to take you out to work. If you'd been left to run wild inside any more we wouldn't've had a house." Shizuka gave her finished popsicle stick a betrayed look. "I wish we'd had a garden of our own though. You could've ripped up our weeds instead of other people's," she sighed. 

They stood quietly for a moment, watching the people mill about below. Jounouchi eyed a family with three kids running rampant about their parents, cackling like witches. 

"Do you still visit him?" Shizuka asked abruptly. 

"...Yeah. Sometimes."

Shizuka hummed. She'd already made clear her thoughts on the topic before. 

Huffing, Jounouchi teethed on his popsicle stick. Shizuka was younger, she'd grown up with their mom, without the happy memories of their dad that shattered and sliced into Jounouchi's skin like the shards of the bottles he’d had thrown at his head. Jounouchi had his mom's eyes, apparently; he himself didn't see it, but the old man had spat it out more than once between hacking up red spider lilies and yellow tulips. 

It wasn't really surprising he'd abandoned his work—who the hell would want to make a living gardening after that—and drinks were cheap at the bar next to the nearest pachinko parlor. One thing led to another, and eventually Jounouchi was the one who had to earn the money, who had to take care of the man who raised him, the old man who hit him and called him _useless_ and _weakling_ and _brat_ ; because he'd bought him his favourite ice cream when Mom didn't come to Sports Day, and if Jounouchi didn't take care of him, no one would. 

He hadn’t been like that all the time, though. There were days, when Jounouchi had swept away the glass and the petals, that he'd had his dad back for the briefest moment. He’d apologise, make a meagre dinner, ask about Jounouchi's life. Try and help with his homework—he hadn’t been half bad with math. They even went grocery shopping, once. Jounouchi had spent every second of those moments waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never took long. 

More than once, he'd stood and watched for a minute as the old man struggled to breathe, hating the both of them for every passing second, but Mom most of all.

Swallowing, Jounouchi leaned back on his heels, gripping the railing to stop himself from falling. "You ready to swim?" 

Shizuka perked up and adjusted her shoulder straps. "Hell yeah. Let's just take care of these first." She waved her wooden stick. "No littering!" 

They set off along the promenade in search of a trash bin that wasn't already full to the brim and being savaged by overly large and threatening gulls. And the winged beasts _still_ dive bombed anyone foolish enough to wander around with their food unguarded. Eventually they found one that they could get near, disposing of their wooden sticks and shiny watermelon emblazoned wrappers. 

The break in conversation was patched by the sounds of the sea birds calling to each other, the not-so distant lap of waves on the sand, and a truly awful live musician at one of the bars below, surrounded by small, decorative palm trees. Jounouchi was grateful for the end of the questioning, a thought which, once occurred, naturally meant that Shizuka opened her mouth again. 

"Do you _want_ to go out with him?" she challenged suddenly, wheeling to face Jounouchi with a serious face. "Like, properly?" 

_(—aware your shirt is inside out?” Kaiba asked as he arrived, cat running ahead of him with a greeting meow._

_“Huh?!” Jounouchi stood up out of petting Saggi hello and checked himself in the entryway mirror. Sure enough, there were the seams, exposed for all the world to see. “Well, it’s—it’s a new thing I’m trying, didn’t you hear? I’m taking the fashion world by storm.”_

_“I see. A statement on the ugly underside of the fast fashion industry?” Kaiba scoffed at him with a roll of his eyes and a twitch of his lips._

_Despite himself, Jounouchi found himself grinning. “Nah, I just think it looks sick,” he said, and there it was again, that twitch._

_There was just something really satisfying about making that stony face twitch; about the tired glare Kaiba would give after being hit with a tremendous pun; the way his jaw would clench whenever Jounouchi deliberately mispronounced something with a big grin on his face; the particular way he rolled his eyes with a little intake of breath, eyelashes fluttering with the brief movement. Sometimes, his lips would move, just that twitch at each end, and Jounouchi would feel ridiculously proud of himself—)_

Jounouchi shrugged his shoulders sharply as they trotted down the steps to the beach level. Dueling, takeout and TV, insults to each other's person and some really, _really_ good sex. All safely contained on a Sunday evening, within the high walls of a penthouse apartment far from the earth below. "Nah. S'a bad idea. We'd end up strangling each other."

"Maybe," Shizuka acknowledged dubiously, the even wooden platform giving way to sand under their feet as they navigated through sunbathers. The ocean was a particularly brilliant shade of blue that day, the water undulating and sparkling invitingly, long clumps of sea weed bobbing along and washing up on shore. "But Jou… not everyone ends up like—" 

"I _know_ ," Jounouchi snapped, and then sighed. "Sorry." He massaged his neck with one hand and gulped. "D'you have any of those sweet things still? I'm getting a sore throat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twiddles my thumbs and hopes that the bracketed italics sections worked as like, an addition rather than just being an interruption
> 
> should i change this fic from M to E. also kaiba's posh pizza is both a) a real thing that ive seen advertised and b) used here as a metaphor for eating ass


	6. Between You, Me, and the Gatepost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Between You, Me, and the Gatepost_ • What is going to be or has been said should not be told to anyone else; between us.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Jounouchi and Kaiba's regular schedule is interrupted by another birthday.

As languidly as seaweed floated through the waters of Domino beach, the year swam from June into July. The heat got heavier and heavier, moisture in the air weaving the Sun's rays into a great sheet of chainmail that sunk over the city, making it sweat under the weight. Jounouchi said ‘fuck it’ and got himself a hand fan from a little tourist shop. It had a pattern of dragons and pink cherry blossoms on the paper, made an extremely satisfying _thwap_ when he flicked it open, and a slightly less but still satisfying swish through the air when he fanned himself with it. He continued visiting Kaiba's apartment, where they ate and fucked, and Jounouchi noticed that Kaiba had a single black hair growing out of his shoulder. When Jounouchi absentmindedly remarked on it, running a nail over the little thing, Kaiba immediately got up with a growl and yanked it out with a pair of tweezers. 

Another thing about July, in addition to the weather, was that it contained Mokuba's birthday. The 7th didn't fall on a Sunday, but Mokuba flew home the weekend after, under some business reason Kaiba had contrived to see his baby brother. Jounouchi wondered if Mokuba thought that was as dumb as he did. Either way, it meant Jounouchi had to find something else to do with his weekend. 

Luckily, Iwasaki found it for him when he got the intel that four people in their work team were free on the Saturday night and immediately wrangled them into a night of drinking and karaoke, despite the fact that he himself didn't drink. Jounouchi found himself back at the very same somewhat pricey bar he'd been stood up at months ago. It was an old fashioned setup, with a karaoke machine in the bar instead of individual booths upstairs. There were escape room games upstairs instead. 

On returning, Jounouchi begrudgingly decided the place wasn't so bad. The shelves were still too neat, but the neon lights were fairly trashy at least—entirely too many pineapple shaped neon lights for one room. The discounts weren't bad either. Plus, it was fun to watch his coworkers embarrass themselves. 

Not that Iwasaki had any sense of embarrassment, duel wielding two microphones and singing coherently into neither of them. 

“I don’t think I know this song,” Yamada, their newest and youngest team member, said absentmindedly, weaving her head back and forth to try and get a bartender's attention. Jounouchi was tempted to suggest clearing her throat obnoxiously. 

Their team leader, Yamagishi, raised her severely plucked eyebrows at the scene. “I don’t think anyone knows this song apart from Iwasaki,” she remarked. Their stern leader had little tolerance for anything she deemed nonsense, and had a particular way of looking down on people despite being barely above four feet tall. In the time he'd worked under her, Jounouchi had managed to get from terrified to mildly afraid. It was strange seeing her in casual clothes, perched on a stool with her legs neatly folded, feet high above the ground, rocking flare jeans like it was the noughties—she usually delegated the duty of organising and attending any get together to Iwasaki, her second in command, who was only too happy to cover for her. 

The man in question belted out another incomprehensible lyric.

"I'm not sure Iwasaki knows it either," Jounouchi joked. 

Belting even harder, Iwasaki then abruptly broke from singing into a passionate and clearly well practiced Love and Joy dance, and there was no way to tell if this was appropriate or not. 

What Jounouchi thought was one more verse, two choruses, but most importantly the arrival of a round of drinks later, Iwasaki bowed deeply to applause before passing off the microphones to a fresh-faced young couple. 

"C'mon guys, you have to get up there!" Iwasaki enthused at his coworkers as he collected his cranberry juice. 

"We can't all be idols," Yamada laughed, saluting him with her beer. Yamagishi looked like she'd rather die, and Jounouchi wondered how in hell her and Iwasaki got along so well. 

Iwasaki pouted at them all. "Jounouchi will sing with me," he proclaimed confidently, slapping Jounouchi on the shoulder. "Right Jou?" 

There was zero chance that Jounouchi wouldn't embarrass himself if he set foot on that stage. He wasn't exactly idol material either. "Hell yeah I will," he answered with a grin. "Once the lovebirds are done."

The couple on stage were now holding hands and looking deeply into each other's eyes, like any minute a flight of doves would soar over and drop a ring. Unlike whatever Iwasaki had been attempting, their rendition of _The One and Only Flower in the World_ was actually recognisable, being better singers but not anywhere near as good entertainers. Everyone but Jounouchi seemed to find it all endearing. 

"You're still single, aren't you?" Yamada asked politely. Taking a sip of cider, Jounouchi nodded, and she gave him what was probably supposed to be an earnest, supportive expression. He thought she looked constipated. "Maybe you'll find someone tonight! I'm sure there are lots of nice... people here."

Taking another swig, Jounouchi made a cursory glance around the room, and made a fascinating discovery. "Mics are free. Come on, Miku," he commanded, dragging Iwasaki up to the stage at the very second it was being left vacant. Well, he would've dragged him, if Iwasaki had given any resistance at all. 

After some faffing with the machine, they landed on some MONGOL800 for a classic, high energy karaoke staple that Jounouchi could jump about and flail his limbs about to. And flail about he did, with great enthusiasm. His running man even got a few whoops as the bar became a giddy blur of glowing shapes, his awareness narrowing down to the microphone in his hand, the need to belt into said microphone as loudly as he possibly could with little regard for staying in key, and to Iwasaki next to him giving his own masterful performance. 

By the time their song was over, Jounouchi was laughing and lightheaded as they both leaned over the machine to check their result. 56 out of 100. Letting out a growl and furrowing his brow in determination, Jounouchi automatically started searching for another number. Like _hell_ were they settling for such a measly score. They just needed to belt even harder. No more stupid dance moves, Jounouchi was gonna get his head in the game. 

He was yanked away from the machine. "C'mon, let someone else on first. It's sportsmanly or something," Iwasaki said cheerily while Jounouchi struggled briefly to get back to the stage. "Besides, I wanna meet the new guy. He's cute."

Indeed, Yamagishi and Yamada had started chatting with some other bar goer, a tall man with wavy black hair. His beam at Jounouchi as he approached was familiar in a way that niggled, as well as the sharp young face Jounouchi had to tilt his head slightly to look up at. He'd have looked a lot like Kaiba, if it weren't for that bright smile. 

He tipped a glass of something purple in greeting. "Hey, Jounouchi. Still embarrassing yourself, I see," he sniggered in a deep, scratchy voice. 

Jounouchi felt the sudden lurch of realisation as it clicked. A Kaiba that smiled. "Mokuba?!" he exclaimed, shock reverberating through him. 

The little kid that Jounouchi had seen get kidnapped what felt like every other second had rocketed to a height that didn't quite match his brother's, but was more than enough to look down on Jounouchi and most of the rest of the world with an impish grin. He'd chopped the long locks but still didn't tame them, and swapped in the striped shirt and vest for a short-sleeve mandarin shirt, colourblocked in pink, orange, and yellow. It was a jarring experience trying to reconcile the two images with no warning. 

And then the indignation hit. "Hey! It's called having fun!" Jounouchi argued indignantly. 

"Sure, sure…" Mokuba raised his eyebrows with clear amusement, while Iwasaki flicked his head back and forth between the two of them in the manner of a confused meerkat. "It looked like geddan to me."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Jounouchi grumbled as Yamagishi hummed in agreement. Damn Kaiba brothers, never letting him live. "Happy birthday, tyke. Thought you'd be having quality time with the big bro, not hanging around in bars."

Mokuba seemed to find this statement incredibly funny. "Can't I do both?" 

Jounouchi suddenly became aware of another tall menace hanging over him. Oh, _great._

Looking down impassively over a purple drink of his own, Kaiba at least gave him the dignity of a nod. "Jounouchi," he said curtly. 

“Kaiba,” Jounouchi greeted back, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt as Kaiba's eyes swept slowly up and down his body. 

Things had gone fine in front of Yuugi and the gang, but this was different. This was his coworkers and Kaiba's brother, and he hadn't had any warning whatsoever. 

Jounouchi felt rather than saw Iwasaki gaping next to him, too busy himself trying to think of something to say. He was caught off guard, unable to think of anything but the fact that Kaiba was wearing a white, short sleeve turtleneck with a zip neck, and Jounouchi had never seen him wear _anything_ with short sleeves before. Some of Kaiba’s ensemble was familiar—Jounouchi was sure he’d seen those dark checkered pants before—but the top? The loose cardigan, more like a blanket with holes in than anything else, retro patterned with lines of teal, white, red and black, that only covered his arms down to the elbow? They were throwing him for a loop. It must’ve been the humidity. Long, tight sleeves would’ve been unbearable. 

The last thing Jounouchi noticed was that Kaiba’s bangs had slightly parted on the left side of his forehead, and that he looked oddly open like that. 

Then Kaiba broke the spell by opening his mouth. “Your shirt looks like a bus seat vomited in a bowling alley,” he informed Jounouchi with a twist in his lip. He almost sounded like he approved. "No glitter tonight?" 

“Better than whatever the hell kind of look _you’re_ going for,” Jounouchi lied with an exaggerated scowl. It was so unfair that he’d seen Kaiba naked numerous times and the sight of bare forearms was still making him hot under the collar. “Like the personification of airpods got a gig at a library.” 

Mokuba snorted. “Seto’s was better.” 

Iwasaki was repeatedly hitting Jounouchi in the arm but thankfully not vocalising his excitement, and Yamagishi's eyes had widened in recognition too. Yamada clearly didn't have the faintest clue who he was and hesitantly greeted him with a little bow, a strained, confused smile on her face. 

Much to Jounouchi's shock, Kaiba returned it with a slight tilt of his head. "Your coworkers," he deduced, eyes moving from person to person, resting a little longer on Iwasaki, who was practically vibrating. Jounouchi thought he could almost hear him whispering _act normal act normal act normal_ to himself. 

Multitasking, Jounouchi gave brief introductions while telling himself not to panic. This would be fine. Totally fine. It was just his coworkers meeting the famous guy he went to high school with, survived multiple near death experiences with, and was also fucking. Nothing to go wrong there. They at least knew he used to duel, and _that_ conversation with Iwasaki had been months ago, he probably wouldn't remember Jounouchi saying he'd hooked up with a guy from high school, never mind connect the dots. They were pretty far apart dots. At least two miles. 

"...and seeing as it's my birthday, he has to do whatever I want to do with me. Right Seto?" 

Kaiba nodded with a short jerk. Possibly it hadn't occurred to him that Mokuba might want to go out and have fun on his birthday. Jounouchi didn't know what Kaiba did for his, but he could safely guess it wasn't that. 

"And for tonight I chose coming here!" Mokuba concluded with a grand, sweeping gesture to the bar. 

Jounouchi looked around at the neon lit room, karaoke backing track and off-key vocals bouncing off the walls. Nothing special really, but he guessed it was in a pretty convenient location for them if they'd come from HQ or Kaiba's penthouse. 

"I'm making him branch out," Mokuba leaned down to stage whisper, which was really just a normal speaking level as opposed to shouting to be heard over the music. "And drink whatever I drink!" 

That explained the purple cocktails. Kaiba was drinking his fairly fast. 

"You're gonna karaoke?" Iwasaki burst out, and Jounouchi couldn't blame him. If _that_ was where the night was going, Jounouchi didn't even care what jail cell he ended up in for filming it all and posting it online. "Or the escape room? Although, you need more than two people fo-" 

"There's an escape room?!" Mokuba exclaimed, cutting off Iwasaki's rambling and immediately grabbing Kaiba's arm. "Seto. _Seto_. We _have_ to."

Kaiba opened his mouth, but didn't get a word in edgeways. "Yes! You need four to eight people, but we're six now, we could totally do it!" Iwasaki practically bounced up and down like a pomeranian. 

"Actually, I'm gonna head home, I'm travelling tomorrow morning. It's been fun though," Yamada nodded at them all before extracting herself to goodbyes. 

Down to five. Still enough people. Not as fun as watching Kaiba perform pop hits could potentially be, but watching him be made to participate in a teamwork game could be good. "Fuck it, I'm in."

The group turned to Yamagishi, pleading. Well, three of them did. Kaiba’s expression was more along the lines of steely expectation. Jounouchi briefly wondered what would happen if the birthday boy’s request was denied. 

"It does sound fun," Yamagishi admitted with a little smile. "Yes, let's do it. If it's not booked," she added the caveat with the gentle implication to not get their hopes up. 

Mokuba and Iwasaki were immediately off like two bottle rockets to find out, leaving Jounouchi sitting at a bar with his boss and his fuckbuddy. Neither were people he found himself out socialising with individually, let alone together, and he felt a sudden urge to comment on what lovely weather they'd had lately. 

"Jounouchi has told me you have two children," Kaiba said suddenly, and Jounouchi twisted his head to stare at him properly. He didn't think Kaiba remembered any of his ramblings about his job. Or had payed attention to any of them in the first place. 

Yamagishi nodded. "A boy and a girl. My daughter is rather a big fan of yours," she said with a soft smile. "Always demanded a trip to KaibaLand for her own birthday when she was younger. Wore the Blue-Eyes onesie we got her until it wore out."

Straightening up, Kaiba shifted slightly on the balls of feet. Preening. Ridiculous. "She has refined taste," he said approvingly, his chin a little higher in the air than before. "Does she play?" 

"Oh, yes," Yamagishi nodded. "Less now, with her studies, but she used to be quite the little competitor, demanding duels from everyone at school. Won a few small tournaments." Then she giggled. Jounouchi couldn't believe it. His straight faced boss, actually _giggling_ while talking to Kaiba of all people. "She's going to be rather envious when I tell her about this… may I take a photo with you?" 

After a moment's consideration, Kaiba nodded. "You may."

Kaiba strode the short way over to stand next to Yamagishi, who retrieved her smartphone to hand to Jounouchi. Dumbstruck, he vaguely nodded to assure her that he knew how to take pictures, but he still didn't move once the phone was in his hands. He was too busy staring at Kaiba. Jounouchi had already noticed the way his skin glowed under the bar lights and the way he towered over everyone. That was nothing new, even if he did kind of want to write home about it. 

No, he was staring because Kaiba was asking his boss the practical yet incomprehensible question of how she wanted the photo taken. He was staring because Kaiba was extending one long, pale, branch-like arm to hover around her shoulders; stiff, uncomfortable, but making an attempt. 

Jounouchi found himself burning. He couldn't pinpoint why. He felt strangely angry at the scene. Something about it all just felt wildly unfair, and despite the heat in his chest, Jounouchi's skin felt cold. 

"Technology too complex for you, Jounouchi?" Kaiba drawled in a lofty tone, and Yamagishi looked down in stifled amusement. 

"Shut up," Jounouchi mumbled and held up the phone, tapping to get them in the right focus. He hoped the phone and the low lights would work together to conceal his heated face. "Smile."

Kaiba did. It was a tight lipped thing, but still an attempt. Jounouchi handed the device back over and was glad when Mokuba and Iwasaki burst the odd bubble they’d formed by returning, a staff member in tow. The sound of the bar popped back into Jounouchi's hearing, and Kaiba retreated back to himself, but Jounouchi still had an odd sensation like he was floating downstream, body slowly swirling round and around in the water, which was ironic as they headed up a steep flight of stairs.

The bar had two escape rooms, and it was the one designed for a longer experience that was free. It had the theme of a rotting traditional home, still standing only because of the spirit that couldn't leave its confines. The group was asked to remove their shoes before entering out of respect by the 'housekeeper,' and also to not try breaking anything, hitting anything, and to leave via the not particularly concealed fire exit in case of an emergency. A low, menacing red glow lit the scene through the paper screen walls. Fake vines that flowered into withered fabric roses grew along one such wall, and a heart-shaped locket rested in the hand of the plastic skeleton sitting seiza at the low table, lit by an eerie blue spotlight. Their mission was to solve the mystery that kept the dead woman's spirit from moving on. 

For fuck's sake. Why did it have to be so _creepy?_

Although, for someone who was supposed to be long dead, she had a pretty healthy head of long black hair. Why didn't she have any clothes? Was that a clue?

"Oh, and someone puked on her kimono yesterday and it's still being cleaned. The lack of clothes is not a clue," their bright and cheery housekeeper informed them. "If you get seriously stuck, the voice of the spirit has been known to speak to visitors. Maybe she'll give you some advice! You have two hours. Good luck!"

As she left through the sliding door, Jounouchi crouched down and ran his fingers through the piles of red, fake petals that surrounded the skeleton. 

"Is it a kind of tragic romance mystery?" Iwasaki guessed, taking it all in. "With all the flowers, I mean."

"Looks like it," Yamagishi agreed, stepping slowly into the room. 

There was a hum of disapproval from Jounouchi-knew-who, and Jounouchi kept his eyes on the petals a little while longer before standing. This was fine. It wouldn't last longer than an hour. Two hours. 

While the majority of the group set about rummaging around the room, Kaiba hung back, and Jounouchi glanced at him. “Not gonna be the big boss man and order us peons about?” he prodded nervously.

Giving Jounouchi a brief glance, Kaiba grunted before joining his brother. 

The locket had a picture of a man and a four digit number inside, which Kaiba encouraged them to adjust a wall clock to reflect. They were rewarded by it chiming and opening up to reveal a stash of letters, which Mokuba read them aloud, telling of a tortured soul in love with someone who never returned her letters. Kaiba rolled his eyes and set about examining them for hidden clues. Under Mokuba’s direction, the team of five began to link bits to bobs and thingies to thinga-magjigs. They made decent progress, Jounouchi thought. If they got stuck on something, Kaiba would attempt to nudge his brother in what he thought was the right direction. A vein on his temple throbbed occasionally, no doubt from stopping himself taking complete charge of the chattering group. 

Every so often there would be a miserable, ghostly moan, and a projector would send a blurred glowing image floating around the walls and cause Jounouchi to jump just a bit closer to whoever was nearest. Poor fake dead woman, pining away in a rotting room, creeping the shit out of him. 

As Mokuba and Iwasaki wrapped up in conversation with each other over a puzzle box, Jounouchi found his attention drifting to the low discussion happening at the table as he re-checked drawers and ran his hands through the ivy. Yamagishi had joined Kaiba, and Jounouchi watched as they sat on the floor, pouring over the papers. 

Turning back to the ivy, Jounouchi scowled at it as he yanked in frustration. It was just—it was _weird_ seeing Kaiba interact with other people when Jounouchi was so used to seeing him alone. It felt wrong. 

“My daughter had hanahaki,” Yamagishi said quietly to Kaiba, and Jounouchi’s hands fisted in the fake foliage. “I know you support the Research Foundation.”

Kaiba didn’t say anything for a few moments. “They are an organisation I am proud to fund.”

“I know. It’s part of why she looks up to you. We know so little about how it actually works, people dismiss it, and I don’t think things like _this_ ,” she paused, presumably to indicate the room, “help. If that _is_ what this thing is supposed to be."

"I do not think this particular use of aesthetics is a coincidence, no." Kaiba sounded disgusted and decisive, a sure sign he was working up to a rant. "Reinforcing the nonsense about _dying_ of _unrequited romance_ , a fable that should not be assigned to a real and treatable disease… If that is the case, why are there instances of children getting it? Happily married couples? Why..."

Jounouchi focused on the ivy in front of him rather than listen to Kaiba’s monologue; of _course_ he would claim it was bullshit. He’d vehemently denied all the other magic in his life too. Resolutely not thinking of anyone coughing up flowers, Jounouchi blinked furiously and gave a fake rose a vicious tug—only to be surprised when it detached from the foliage. It slid out into his hand with a long metal rod with a hooked end where the stem would be. 

"Woooo," said the ghostly voice, startling him. "An item really designed to be found after solving a clue, wooooo."

"Skipping ahead? Jounouchi, how could you!" Iwasaki said with dramatic faux shock.

Jounouchi found everyone looking at him, Kaiba with a particular intensity for some reason. Whatever, just because _he_ hadn't solved his riddle thing yet didn't mean Jounouchi couldn't do anything. "What? It's _hanahaki,"_ he said defensively, walking over to plonk himself down on the floor and the rose on the table. "There was going to be _something_ in the big plant."

"A surprisingly logical deduction from you," Kaiba remarked, picking up the rose and inspecting it. Some kind of key, Jounouchi guessed. "I'd be impressed if I didn't know you were just yanking things until you got a result."

"You're just mad because you didn't think of it, and you don't know what the letters mean yet," Jounouchi teased, and when Kaiba's brow twitched he knew he was bang on. For all he was a Mr. Smarty-Pants, Kaiba had missed an astoundingly easy two and two making four. Well, so had everyone else, but Jounouchi didn't care so much about that. 

"Actually, we've found a three digit code," Yamagishi corrected him, and Jounouchi jerked to find her watching the pair of them. Kaiba got to his feet in a great unfolding of limbs to unlock the one of the padlocks on the safe, before rejoining them on the floor. 

"The code was only on one of the pages," Kaiba said, discarding one sheet of paper to the ground. "The other two will no doubt hold other clues. Perhaps to your key."

"In which case you know one thing you're looking for, so you can work back from there," Jounouchi concluded, and slapped Kaiba on the shoulder. "You're welcome."

Kaiba grunted at him, and Jounouchi grinned and set about solving the rest of the mystery. 

Iwasaki and Mokuba managed to open the puzzle box (despite dutifully ignoring the ghost's probably helpful suggestions) to find another key like the rose. Time went by rapidly after that, as they found and solved more puzzles and had a brief interlude of giggling and scooping up petals from the floor to throw at each other, while the boring adults of the table watched with bemusement. Eventually they found four keys in total. One of them was in the skeleton itself, disguised in an arm bone.

Putting the keys into four holes in each corner of the table, rotating so that the hooked ends got a grip, they worked together to lift out the inlaid surface. The hollow inside contained a response to the ghost's letters. Apparently her family hadn't approved, and hid it from her, letting her to waste away rather than let her marry an unsuitable man. Jounouchi felt a weight lifted from his chest when Mokuba read the letter aloud; the red lights turning to gentle sunlight and the ghostly wails fading out to birdsong. 

Thank fuck. Jounouchi hated ghosts. 

"Are you _crying?_ " Iwasaki whispered. 

" _No!"_ Jounouchi hissed back, and wiped his eyes with his hand. He was given a comforting arm around the shoulders, and an odd look from Kaiba. 

The 'housekeeper' reappeared to thank them for helping the poor spirit and give them the reward such intrepid supernatural investigators were due: they each received a little pin badge with a picture of a rose on it. Jounouchi shoved his into a back pocket. 

"So she died despite her feelings being requited," Kaiba remarked flatly as they stepped back into the corridor and pulled their shoes back on. "A strange twist, unless you concede it's a myth."

Rolling his eyes, Jounouchi laced up his sneakers. "S'not much of a twist. People don't _die_ of hanahaki. She died of something else, but 'cause her family were a bunch of dickwads she couldn't move on without closure. The flower stuff must've been for the look."

Mokuba surprised Jounouchi by having a more cynical view. "I don't know. She couldn't move on because she thought he didn’t love her back, not because she thought there was anything hidden from her. That's just depressing."

"It's an escape room story," Yamagishi reasoned. "I doubt much thought was put into it beyond what would be simple but dramatic."

"But it was fun, and that's the most important part!" Iwasaki said brightly. "Right, birthday boy?" 

Mokuba laughed. "Yeah, it was. Thanks guys."

Karaoke was still in full swing when they returned downstairs, and the group ordered more drinks. As Jounouchi had suspected, Iwasaki inevitably managed to whine enough to cajole Yamagishi on stage for a ballad, where she stood with an awkward smile that turned into a less awkward one once she became comfortable. She left afterwards, citing that the night may be young but she wasn't. 

Jounouchi swiveled on his stool and nudged Kaiba with an elbow as Mokuba took the stage. "Not gonna grace us with a song and dance, drama-llama?" 

Making a face as he sipped his skittle bomb—apparently Mokuba had a much greater sweet tooth than he did—Kaiba inclined his head. "I don't dance," he answered, absentmindedly tugging the hoop zip of his turtleneck down. Jounouchi couldn't help but eye the exposed collarbone. "Or sing. Your own performance as a court jester was highly convincing, but playing oneself isn't hard."

Rude. Jounouchi let out an offended gasp, clutching a hand to his heart before prodding Kaiba playfully on the arm. The clothed part of his arm, that is. The bare forearms felt forbidden. "Bet you're just scared you won't beat me on the leaderboards."

He knew it was a cheap tactic, and from the glare he was receiving, Kaiba knew it too. 

Didn't mean it wasn't going to work. 

"That is _not_ going to work," Kaiba growled. 

Jounouchi met the glare head-on, taking another sip of his own drink. "Weenie."

Tempered steel eyes narrowed at Jounouchi, the lower right lid making an extremely satisfying twitch. "I am not responding to a man whose worst insult is _weenie_ ," Kaiba declared. He looked a few more prods away from stamping his foot. 

" _Weenie_ ," Jounouchi insisted, trying not to grin and feeling himself fail. "Scaredy-cat. Noob." 

" _Noob?_ What are you, a twelve year old xbox user?" 

"What are _you_ , a coward?" 

Narrowed his eyes, Kaiba huffed out an _ugh_ , and knocked back his drink in a long gulp that had Jounouchi staring at his neck again. Slamming his glass on the counter, he then strode away with the power walk of someone who'd dismantled a weapons empire to stand at the bottom of the stage and wait for his turn on the karaoke machine. Wailing happily on the mic, Mokuba performed an actually decent solo, which Jounouchi thought was pretty bizarre considering his regular voice was pretty far from musical. Must've been rocking out in Berlin. 

"...Did you just get Seto Kaiba to sing for you?" Iwasaki said. 

Jounouchi startled, and turned to look at his coworker having rather forgotten he was there. "For _us_ , Iwa,” he covered with as he got his phone out, shitty camera open. The old gang was going to need to see this. “For the world."

"Hmm." 

Jounouchi looked up at the uncharacteristic lack of words to find an annoying, knowing look being leveled at him. Iwasaki shrugged as he leaned against the bar top, and Jounouchi shook his head and got to the front of the stage himself for better recording purposes. Kaiba's scowl was deadly, but luckily all the time they'd spent together meant that Jounouchi had partial immunity as he tapped record. The anticipation was killing him. Straining his ears, he heard Kaiba get confirmation from Mokuba that they did have Korean music, and then Mokuba cackling, insisting that they dueted as Kaiba selected a track. 

A steady, oscillating, high energy electronic beat thrummed from the speakers, and Kaiba deftly twirled the microphone in his fingers. Jounouchi suddenly realised that he was going to see him sing and potentially dance, and he was hit with a strange dizziness. It felt a little like panic. 

The sound of Kaiba’s deep voice reverberating through the speakers was completely surreal: deep, a little gravelly, with a distinct nasal quality to it as it jolted up and down the register with the fast-paced song. Kaiba was not, in fact, a very good singer, and Jounouchi delighted at the discovery. Seeing his grin, Kaiba sent him a scowl, flipped him off, and then had to stumble through his next line, turning his attention back to the quick lyrics with the same determined intensity he gave dueling. Jounouchi himself didn't understand a single word. The tune was familiar, some hit from a few years back he thought, but he didn’t know Korean. Given Mokuba’s earlier laughter, he figured he was probably missing some kind of dig.

All in all, it was nothing special. Jounouchi still couldn't tear his eyes away. Somehow, Kaiba managed to give the impression of hypnotising motion without a single actual dance move, which was lucky because this definitely sounded like it should've been a dance number. The chattering hubbub of the bar seemed to fall away like the leaves of a deciduous tree in autumn, leaving only the unsteady, barely in key, incomprehensible words tripping off Kaiba's tongue. Nothing special. Just karaoke. An ordinary practice for friends on a night out, and Kaiba was doing it. Not brilliantly, not terribly, just doing it. 

Well, it was Mokuba’s birthday, and Kaiba _would_ make an effort for him. Kind of sweet, really. Jounouchi shoved the image of Kaiba in a stupid swimsuit at the beach out of his mind. It was pretty easy to replace it with the Kaiba in front of him, jaw working as he sang, the sweat glistening on his neck giving Jounouchi a whole different problem. Jeez, did he _have_ to put his mouth right on the microphone like that? 

The song ended on an actual mic drop, Kaiba raising both his palms for Mokuba to high five. Which he did, whooping.

"Knew you had it in you Seto, I'm so proud of us," Mokuba said, wiping a fake tear from his cheek with a genuine, beaming smile. Sticking his chin up, Kaiba bodily hauled Jounouchi up to look at the scoreboard. 

_dancemasteriwa and The Great Jounouchi - MONGOL800 - Little Love Song - 56_ _  
__BurgerBoy and Seto Kaiba - 2Ne1 - I Am the Best - 69_

Jounouchi gaped. "How the fuck did you do that. Sixty-nine and everything. I hate you."

"Because, as I have just demonstrated," Kaiba explained, holding his arms out, palms up in a gesture that invited the roaring of crowds, "I am the best."

"Yeah, yeah." Grumbling, Jounouchi shook his head at him. "Guess I owe you a drink or something."

"Or something," Kaiba agreed in a low voice as they made their way back to the group. _Not_ fair. 

It was only after moving to a table that Jounouchi remembered to stop recording. Maybe he'd cut that last bit out before sending it to the group chat. 

They stayed a while longer. A half-hearted game of _never have I ever_ got uncomfortable for Jounouchi when he had to say "I don't know if mine counts" to _jacked off in public_ , because everyone knew if you said that then it counted. He had to admit he got himself off in the woods during Duelist Kingdom, although he skipped over the part where it had totally been Kaiba's fault. Bastard. Look, a hot guy had just told him it suited him to be on his knees. You gotta do what you gotta do. 

"Jounouchi, you horndog!" Mokuba gasped, then sniggered into his glass. "Ha, _dog_."

"Can’t blame the mutt for his baser instincts," Kaiba tutted, and Jounouchi hoped not for the first time that no one could see him getting red in the face. "He can't help it if he was never properly trained."

"Know what? Eat my moneybags, moneybags," Jounouchi retorted, knocking back the rest of his drink to cover up the urge to squirm in his seat. Judging by the way Kaiba's eyes gleamed in amusement, he didn't entirely succeed. 

Luckily, Mokuba and Iwasaki were too busy heckling at the exchange to notice. Unluckily, Jounouchi remembered that he would be heading home alone tonight. _Fuck._ Kaiba had better not say any more shit like that. Stupid bastard, flooding Jounouchi's thoughts with the imagined feel of a floor beneath his knees, a just too tight collar around his neck, and a cool voice in his ear— 

"In the woods during a tournament with people running about…" Iwazaki shook his head and pulled Jounouchi out of his fantasy. "I've been setting you up with the wrong guys, Jou."

Jounouchi laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, you have."

Solemnly placing a hand over his heart, Iwasaki looked deeply and earnestly into Jounouchi's eyes. "We'll find you someone. We may have gotten distracted tonight, but I swear, with the Kaibas themselves as my witnesses, we will find you love."

Not knowing what else to do, Jounouchi conjured a grin and called for Kaiba’s turn, who passed with a throaty grunt. 

They went through _never have I ever done recreational drugs_ (all drank, Kaiba and Mokuba making identical amused faces at the scandalised expression Jounouchi gave them), _eaten or drunk something I found on the sidewalk_ (Jounouchi and Mokuba), and _been in handcuffs_ (Jounouchi, Iwasaki, and a Kaiba whose countenance gave away nothing) before calling it a night. Exiting out onto the street with only mild stumbling, Kaiba and Mokuba walked slightly ahead, wrapped up in their own conversation, while Jounouchi walked with Iwasaki in the rear. It miffed him a little, but he couldn't exactly begrudge either of the brothers for wanting more time with each other. 

Every so often, an unfamiliar laugh would intermingle with Mokuba's. No, this was something Jounouchi probably shouldn't intrude on. Even if it gave him an odd pang in the chest to stay back. 

Besides, this way he could watch Kaiba as he walked. The cape-like cardigan unfortunately obscured the view of his ass, but Jounouchi could at least enjoy the legs in their tightly tailored pants. Fuck, that was a good look. Unfortunately, they'd agreed—there'd be nothing happening this weekend. Jounouchi would just have to break out the old towel when he got home for the sake of his sheets. 

"I'd rather get home before Akiyo goes to bed," Iwasaki said idly as they headed to the nearest metro station. "It's not nice to be woken up by someone banging around in the AMs."

"Aren't you sleeping on the couch anyway?" Jounouchi pointed out, fanning himself absentmindedly, enjoying the light fuzz over his brain as he watched Kaiba stride ahead of him. Damn. He missed the air conditioning of the bar and the cool feeling of a bottle in hand already. It was humid as hell outside. "You gotta move out, man. Can't live with your ex-wife forever."

Shrugging, Iwasaki tilted his head. "It's a little tense," he admitted. "But we were friends first. I couldn't ask for a better roommate until I find somewhere else. So I try to be home on time. Besides," he yawned, "I'm a tired, ancient soul. You'll understand when you're my age."

"You're only three years older than me."

"An ancient soul, Jou."

The train station was reached, sparsely populated at this hour, and goodbyes exchanged. Jounouchi was surprised when Mokuba gave Kaiba a long, swaying hug goodbye and promised to see him in the morning before heading to the westbound platform along with Iwasaki. 

“I thought he’d be staying with you,” he said, perplexed. 

“He has his own apartment further out,” Kaiba answered, watching his brother leave. "He's an adult. He needs his own space." For a long moment, he seemed strangely small standing there, shoulders slumped slightly. 

Not knowing what to say to that, Jounouchi hesitantly reached out, and touched Kaiba's forearm. 

Kaiba looked down at the contact, and then up to give Jounouchi a once over. "As do I," he reflected. Then he turned and started heading in the direction of his apartment, heels clicking loudly against the tile of the station floor as Jounouchi stood there with his hand still hovering. 

That was it? Figured. 

Jounouchi shook his head to himself watching him leave. He sighed, and glanced at the display for the eastbound platform, rocking himself slightly on the balls of his feet. Time to go home and drink some damn water. Next week was, by definition, only a week away. He'd have Kaiba all to himself then, with no weirdly amiable bosses or bubbly coworkers or little brothers around to interrupt them. It was weird. Jounouchi usually liked hanging out in groups, but tonight had been exhausting. 

Then, just as Jounouchi was about to huff out a petulant goodbye, Kaiba halted and twisted to look over his shoulder with an expectant stare. "Well?” He called, snapping his fingers. “Are you coming or not?" 

Jounouchi blinked. "Thought you wanted to skip this weekend."

"I didn't think I'd be meeting you in a bar," Kaiba retorted. "With the amount you've been salivating, I think I'd be trialled for severe neglect if I didn't offer."

"This is animal abuse," Jounouchi told him, stepping carefully closer. "I'm calling the cops on you."

Kaiba raised his eyebrows. "I'll contact my lawyers. I also observe that you are literally fanning yourself."

"Not because of _you_ ." Well, not _entirely._ Catching up, Jounouchi stuck his tongue out and collapsed the fan before _thwap_ ing it open again for the sake of that satisfying sound. "Like it? S'got a dragon on and everything." He fanned Kaiba's face to demonstrate its mighty cooling power. "Rawr."

Kaiba tilted his head back from the fan in his face, and graced Jounouchi with an eye roll and two twitches at each corner of his lips. 

He'd walked with Kaiba to his apartment before, and this second trip felt as surreal as the first even if Jounouchi was more than slightly more sober. It was dark and warm, and occasionally they'd pass other people, individuals and groups, some clearly on nights out of their own. One giggling woman hand in hand with another giggling woman gave them a wink, and Jounouchi grinned back and giggled at the brief connection. With their mismatching appearances, him and Kaiba probably looked quite the pair: Jounouchi, bleach blonde and barely average height, in frayed jorts, a partially untucked shirt, and a dog tag on a string; Kaiba, chestnut haired and towering like a redwood, in a swooping cape and slim pants. They should be a TV series, he thought. 

Their steps fell into pace with each other perfectly. Reaching streets without cars, Jounouchi always felt like he should be walking down the middle of the road with a shotgun and a backing track once there was no traffic around, but this time he envisioned Kaiba beside him through the apocalypse, wielding—also a shotgun, maybe? Or a rocket launcher? Nice and phallic. But Kaiba probably didn't like that military shit. Hm. A katana. All graceful and dramatic. Kaiba wouldn't be a samurai though, he'd be a daimyō with samurai working for him. Maybe Jounouchi should have the katana, he could be the samurai—honor and loyalty and cracking skulls? Hell yeah, he could do that. 

Kaiba's heels clacked loudly next to him, and Jounouchi got a hold of himself. He was putting too much thought into it. Kaiba would look fucking hot with a sword and there wasn't any need to think about it further than that. Heat squirming into him again now it had the green light, Jounouchi raked greedy, anticipating eyes over his companion's tall form, the delicious tendons of his exposed neck. Fuck, how was he making a _cardigan_ appealing? 

In all honesty, Jounouchi was impressed with himself for making it all the way to Kaiba's apartment before diving at his throat. Saggi wound around their legs three times before slinking away when it became clear the humans were occupied. 

Kaiba swayed slightly under the attention as he flicked the door shut and the lights on. "Impatient," he tutted, making no move to stop the pawing as Jounouchi's hands moved, one to the nape of his neck to hold him steady, the other to smooth over his chest, feeling it rise and fall with breath. 

"Can't help it," Jounouchi complained, nosing his way down Kaiba's throat to mouth at his collarbone, drinking in the fluttering skin, inhaling. "You're hot. You're really fucking hot."

"What ar—are you _sniffing_ my _armpit?_ " Kaiba demanded incredulously. 

"Your shirt's all sweaty," Jounouchi groaned, pushing Kaiba towards the couch without letting go. Not normally something he'd especially care about, but he was used to Kaiba being clean to the point of sterilisation, at least when clothed. "S'weird. For you."

Huffing, Kaiba disentangled himself, shed his upper layers, and Jounouchi thought about asking him to put them back on. "I hate summer," he grumbled, dropping the offending shirt on the floor. "It's an atrociously sticky season," he continued as Jounouchi plonked himself down on the couch. 

"Winter’s way worse," Jounouchi argued, yanking Kaiba with him, gasping when Kaiba's weight finally pressed down on him. "Heating bills and icy roads are a bitch." 

"And _Christmas_ ," Kaiba added with annoyance, and Jounouchi let out a giggle, both at the sentiment and at the feeling of Kaiba's hair tickling his skin before teeth tugged gently on his helix. Kaiba always seemed fascinated with his piercings. "All the Americans start demanding extensive celebrations for it. Spring is the same with Easter. Autumn is the only decent season." 

Hooking one leg around Kaiba's waist, Jounouchi ground into his hipbone and gasped at the feeling. In the heavy, heady haze, he thought about pizza toppings and karaoke and undisturbed sandy shores. 

Reaching up to run his fingers through Kaiba’s silky, chestnut brown hair, Jounouchi made eye contact with the ceiling where the chandelier dangled down. "What's your favourite colour?" he blurted out in a rush. 

Immediately, Kaiba pulled back just enough to look at him properly, and Jounouchi felt himself flush under the stare. "What sort of inane question is that?" he asked, voice low and incredulous. 

"I'm just curious is all," Jounouchi mumbled, fidgeting under the scrutiny. One of the bulbs on the light needed replacing. He wondered how you even did that with a lamp like that. 

No answer was immediately forthcoming. Biting his lip, Jounouchi made himself look Kaiba in the eyes. He had never seen Kaiba's eyes so close before, not for longer than the millisecond it took for them to flutter shut. Even in the low light, he could see little details, precise changes in blue that formed the tempered steel gradient; the thin, soft, lightning lines emanating out from the center. A few dark blips around the pupils. 

"Mine's blue," Jounouchi decided, hand absentmindedly making a petting motion. Soft, soft hair. Smelt nice too. Kaiba always smelt nice. "Now you say yours."

"...Burgundy?" Kaiba eventually answered, as if he'd been called on in class when he hadn't been paying attention, and wasn't sure what he was being asked. 

"Huh," Jounouchi said. "I thought it would be black,” he lied, just for something to say. “You wear it often enough."

"Black's a shade, not a colour," Kaiba murmured and put a thumb against Jounouchi's mouth. "Now be a good boy and be quiet."

Quiet wasn't something Jounouchi entirely managed, but he got the message, abandoning talk in favour of sucking Kaiba's thumb into his mouth to hear the faint sigh, feel the lightest exhalation of warm air from Kaiba's lips. Coherent personal questions were difficult to think of, let alone voice, with Kaiba's warm, sweaty skin against his; his teeth dragging along his throat, dragging out gasps, dragging out a desperate, heavy, heady need. 

It was a messier affair than usual. Heavier. Jounouchi roamed his hands everywhere he could reach, squeezing and pinching until settling them in Kaiba's hair to tug him into a heavy kiss. Kaiba gave only mild resistance to being pushed away from Jounouchi's neck and into the back of the couch, letting Jounouchi moan into his mouth and lick his tongue. 

It always made Jounouchi feel so dizzy, to kiss Kaiba. He could feel every sound he made: the sighs, the gasp, the quiet, low moans that sent thrills of arousal licking through Jounouchi's abdomen. It made him want to touch him everywhere, outside and in, make him louder, so Jounouchi could drink in the sound of him. 

Heat washed over in a rising tidal wave. Frantically grinding against the leg between his own and feeling Kaiba just as desperate against him, Jounouchi felt like he was flying, floating, flailing on unsteady wings in high, thin, humid air that made it hard to breathe, made him pant, made his head swim with pressure. Rutting against each other, rough and inelegant, bright jolts of pleasure like sparks from an anvil shot and ricocheted around Jounouchi’s body. His veins and arteries were a network of lit fuses, burning with flame travelling along cord until the explosion, and Jounouchi clung to Kaiba for support as he rocked through it, vaguely registering a hand stroking his hair. 

Through the sweating fog, Jounouchi giggled at the irony, and felt rather than saw Kaiba's confusion. " _Atrociously sticky,"_ he explained, making air quotes with one hand.

Kaiba huffed against him in something that, if you looked sideways and really, really squinted, could have been a laugh.

It had been late when they started and it was naturally even later by the time they were spent. Lying there together, exhausted and sweaty, tangled in each other's limbs, Jounouchi had the rapturous, cataclysmic thought that maybe they would sleep like that. He might've passed out briefly, that hand still stroking his hair. It wouldn't've been the first time. 

It felt nice, that hand. Jounouchi remembered the sound of Kaiba belting out foreign words barely in key. He wondered what he'd sound like with something quieter, more familiar. 

They could've stayed like that for seconds or hours for all Jounouchi could tell, uncomprehending of anything beyond the Kaiba breathing steadily against him. Seconds was the more likely, as Kaiba detached himself, offering the couch for the night in a stilted voice, and Jounouchi yawned as he accepted. Wrapped warmly in the plaid blanket and gazing out the huge windows in the dark, Jounouchi reflected that his makeshift duvet was soft, but Kaiba's skin was softer. 

The thought quivered about Jounouchi's head, like a hummingbird flitting around honeysuckle, or an insect flailing in the pool of a pitcher plant. Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep, hand unconsciously grasping under the couch for an absent jar of petals. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this months ago and realised only yesterday that now both my slow burn fics have a musical scene where kaiba understands the words of the song but jou doesn't. its about the inability to communicate properly i guess. did yall spot the multiple high school musical references
> 
> i figure the karaoke chapter is the opportune time to drop the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ges86ayp8QfygBJy7NGAA?si=Fy_l5152SwOUR-IhgVllCQ)


	7. Beating About the Bush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Beat about the bush_ • To discuss a matter without getting to the point; to speak vaguely or euphemistically so as to avoid talking directly about an unpleasant or sensitive topic.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Kaiba asks Jounouchi for a favour.

A heavy white light whipped around Jounouchi’s skull like a ball on a chain as he sprinted through the endless corridors of the Battle Blimp. His body ached, his feet burned, but Jounouchi couldn't stop running. He needed to get to the doctor's office. Head swimming and ears ringing, his breath coming in high, sharp pants, Jounouchi couldn't stop running. He needed to get to the doctor's office. It was the only thing he could think about.

Running, running, through endless twists and turns Jounouchi was too numb to really register, practically bouncing off the thrumming, sea-green walls. He ran past infinite identical doors, past stagnant air that barely rippled in his wake; once, twice, a dozen times, he slammed into another person making their own way around the labyrinth, ricocheting off them and stumbling into the blinding, miasmic walls before resuming his desperate sprint. Sometimes they shouted after him, sometimes not. Jounouchi never stopped to see who they were. He needed to get to the doctor's office, before the doctor got back. 

But the corridors were unrelenting, and the sounds of rustling leaves and shattering glass reverberated through every molecule of the fetid air. Something flew into Jounouchi's mouth and he spat it out; petals floating through the air; pretty little needle-like things, hitting him, stinging him, slicing his face and arms as he ran. They filled the air like laughter, exploded like glass bottles against walls, blue and white and flecked with blood. Jounouchi grabbed at them with fumbling fingers, trying to catch them and stuff them into a battered cigarette carton, but they flew into his mouth and he was already gasping for air but now he couldn't breathe. The dense mass of noise made Jounouchi's bones splinter and shrink around his organs, crushing his brain, his lungs, and he couldn't breathe; he could hear a cat purring and smell the stench of beer and take-out and coffee and he couldn't breathe— 

Jounouchi was yanked awake by something touching his cheek. 

Startling, Jounouchi floundered his arms for a second or two to get his bearings, the cat sitting on his chest preventing him from moving giving him a quizzical look. The nightmare slipped and slapped around his mind like a freshly caught fish in a bucket, thrashing in desperation, and Jounouchi thought he even heard the soft pad of his own footsteps retreating away from him.

Heart rate slowing to a normal level, Jounouchi winced at the light of a new day as he took in his surroundings: the high ceiling, the tall windows, the soft plaid blanket over him; the tortoiseshell cat, looking at him with large, inquisitive eyes and rumbling with a purr like broken air conditioning. Right. Last night. He'd gone home with Kaiba. He'd gone home with Kaiba and they'd dry humped on his couch. He'd gone home with Kaiba and learned his favourite colour. He'd gone home with Kaiba and been allowed to stay. He'd gone home with Kaiba and— 

—woken up without him. 

Rubbing at his itching throat, Jounouchi tried to blink sleep from his eyes and glared weakly at the cat settling into a sphinx pose on his chest. When he wriggled half-heartedly, trying to dislodge the nuisance without picking her up (which had gone badly for him in the past), she showed no inclination to move whatsoever. 

"Did you _paw_ me awake?" he mumbled at her. "You did, didn't you."

Saggi did not respond, except to blink slowly at him. 

"Y'know, if you wanted me to get up, I can't really do that with you like this," Jounouchi told her. 

Again, Saggi elected not to acknowledge Jounouchi's salient arguments. Ugh. Kaibas were all the same. Breathing without obstruction would have to wait, he supposed, sighing and giving the inconvenience a scratch behind the ears. He was immediately bitten of course, but it was more of a lazy bump of teeth than anything else. Jounouchi rolled his eyes and kept petting. 

"You're so _bitey,_ " Jounouchi yawned as Saggi continued gnawing at his hand, purring even louder. "And purry. Getting a kick out of being mean to me, just like your mother. Why d'you like biting so much, huh?" Giving up trying to administer pets, Jounouchi let his hand go limp as Saggi happily grasped a finger between her jaws, barely pressing down at all. "You're killing me. You're killing your dear Jounouchi, your friend and ally, who provides you with the forbidden cheese when mommy Kaiba isn't looking."

"Does he now," Kaiba's flat voice came from the kitchen.

Jounouchi thanked the ten megaton cat on top of him for the fact he didn't jump at least a foot. "Uh. You didn't hear that." He gently extracted his hand from Saggi's maw. "You'll write to me in jail, right bitey-baby? Pinky paw promise?"

"Jail is for short term holding. You will be going to prison." There was the soft sound of approaching footsteps and then Kaiba was towering over them both like a kaiju over the innocent citizens of Tokyo. "Cheese isn't good for her."

“You're intolerant and you eat it,” Jounouchi pointed out to the underside of Kaiba's folded arms. "Little help, maybe? Kyubey here doesn't want to move."

Letting out a small huff, Kaiba nevertheless obligingly lifted his cat up and away. Jounouchi savoured the sweet release almost as much as the sight of Saggi's body briefly going all long before being put down. 

"Thanks, I swear she's like a fluffy mjolnir or something. Only the worthy can lift and shit," Jounouchi joked awkwardly as he sat up. "Uh. Morning. Thanks for the couch."

Kaiba made a low hum in response, and Jounouchi looked up to see him already ready for the day in—a t-shirt? Jounouchi looked him up and down. An expensive looking t-shirt, sure, but still a t-shirt, slightly baggy with a wide collar, tucked into a pair of equally upmarket cuffed jeans. So he _did_ own casual clothes. Even if he probably had to order the jeans specially long just to cuff them. 

Fidgeting under the silent gaze, Jounouchi diverted his eyes to dart around the lower edges of the room. “Stop hovering, I’ll be out of your hair in a mo’.” 

Kaiba did not respond immediately, nor did he stop looming like an usually fashionably dressed marble statue, and Jounouchi felt unfairly supervised as he cast about for his other sock. He'd flung it somewhere during the night, but _where_ —

“She likes you,” said Kaiba abruptly. 

Bewildered, Jounouchi turned to find himself on the receiving end of an oddly intense blue stare. 

"The… cat?" Jounouchi said stupidly. 

Folding his arms back up, Kaiba did not elaborate or relent, brows contorted to tug downwards in the centre. What, couldn't handle a dog and cat hanging out? Maybe Kaiba was just both weirdly slow and confrontational in the mornings. Not like Jounouchi had ever been around to see before. Or like Kaiba wasn't at least mildly confrontational all the time. 

"Yeah, well," he fumbled defensively, continuing to pat around with his hands, "lots of people like me. Other than living with _you_ , she’s in good company."

Kaiba's eyes briefly flickered with something Jounouchi couldn't read, glaring as if he could speed up Jounouchi's dressing process with a concentrated dose of scrutiny. Then, just as Jounouchi was about to tell him to cool it with the—whatever the hell he was doing—he headed for the door and started pulling on boots, leaving Jounouchi to twist around over the back of the sofa to stare. 

“I am already late," Kaiba growled without looking at him, grabbing a jacket and a motorcycle helmet from a top shelf. "You know where the door is. Don't let it hit your tail on the way out."

Then he was gone. 

Jounouchi turned to look glumly at the cat, who now sat on the discarded blanket, fervently cleaning herself as if nothing had happened. Slowly, Jounouchi put himself back into motion. How the hell had his sock ended up in the _plant?_

If it had been weird to hurriedly tiptoe around Kaiba's apartment before he woke up that first time, it was even weirder to walk around it while he was gone. Jounouchi didn't need to be quiet, but he tried to be anyway. He felt like a thief; like any moment someone would bust down the door, barrel him to the floor and cuff him, and Saggi would just continue licking her ass instead of lifting a single one of her weird little cat thumbs to help him. 

After a trip to the downstairs toilet, Jounouchi made his own way to the kitchen. The usually clear countertops had a pack of aspirin and a single mug next to the sink. Must've just been left out after Kaiba's morning coffee, in too much of a rush to put them away. Filling the mug under the tap, Jounouchi took an aspirin of his own, and was about to open the dishwasher when he noticed that the coffee pot was half full. Seemed wasteful to make a full pot like that, but maybe Kaiba was practical and reheated it later. 

Reasoning that Kaiba probably wouldn't miss any, Jounouchi poured himself some coffee into the used mug, and sat in his usual spot at the table to drink it with his eyes helplessly flickering to the empty chair opposite. Kaiba’s bad mood had left a residual cloud over the apartment, and Jounouchi didn't think he had to speculate far on the cause. They'd both been a bit out of it the previous night. It was morning now. A lot of ideas that looked good in neon darkness didn't hold up under harsh daylight. Catching his reflection in the entryway mirror on the way out, Jounouchi agreed he was one of them. 

On the ride home, a text from Iwasaki prompted Jounouchi to review the footage he'd taken of the previous night. The picture was poor, the audio worse, and Jounouchi more of a found-footage style cameraman; so earbuds in, volume up, Jounouchi missed his stop replaying the shaky three and a half minutes of a blurry Kaiba singing words he didn't understand. He moved it to a new, untitled folder away from his main gallery, and told his coworker he'd forgotten to press record. 

* * *

Work was work, with Iwasaki now playfully teasing him about his friends in high places, but Yamagishi thankfully used her team leader superpower to make him back down during work hours. Maybe Jounouchi had been biased before. She was alright, really; their team was a lot to look after, and she still had the patience for all of them. 

That Guy From Pensions, whose name once again slipped completely from Jounouchi’s mind the moment he entered his number into his phone, came to visit on a quest to organise a multi-department beach-themed party for Marine Day. Iwasaki had been right, the guy _was_ into him, and he was tall and sweet, and gallantly gave Jounouchi the last of his tissues when he had a coughing fit after agreeing to a drink, joking that the office bugs never ended. 

Around midday of the night they agreed on, Jounouchi’s phone buzzed. 

**Rich Bitch 🤑 🍆 💦**  
Going 2 US tmrrw-14th on short notice. Saggi needs looking aftr. Will u do it?  
[11:48]

 **  
**me???  
[12:23]

  
Have limited options u r convenient  
[12:34]

  
wow no wonder ur companys so successful with smooth talk like that  
[12:37]  
fine. anything for the clownbaby  
[12:38]

  
B here after work tonight. I'll show u where everything is  
[12:39]  
\+ stop calling her that  
[12:46]

After that, the day moved in fuzzy, animatronic motion as if a VHS tape on fast-forward, and in a blur of static Jounouchi was in Kaiba's penthouse again far sooner than he’d thought he would be. Kaiba looked haggard when he answered the door, dressed in sweatpants ( _damn it_ ) and an undershirt ( _fuck's sake_ ), and there was the wreckage of a paperwork explosion on the dinner table. Short notice indeed. 

Kaiba's eyes flicked over Jounouchi’s clothes. A button-up, tasteful for once. His nice jeans, the ones with the wave-embroidered back pockets. Kaiba had seen them before, he realised. Months ago. 

"Are you," Kaiba's jaw worked around the words, clunky somehow, as if moved by steam powered cogs and springs, "on your way somewhere?" 

“Yeah, got a, uh, date, after this,” Jounouchi told him sheepishly as he shucked his shoes off. “Can’t stay long.”

Kaiba stared at him for a long second, then nodded, cleared his throat with a decisive cough, and launched into a guide for Saggi care with no further questions on the matter. Feeling an uncomfortable current of _something_ bubbling around his stomach, Jounouchi made mildly smartass comments on the cat food stash (good enough for human consumption), and manufactured amusement at the self-cleaning litter box, tucked under the kitchen counter in a cabinet that had had the door removed. He hadn't even noticed it was there before. It looked like some sort of escape pod. 

"Sooooo… there a reason she eats and drinks out of margarita glasses?" Jounouchi asked nonchalantly, jerking his head towards Saggi's unusual, probably crystal dining arrangement. 

"So she doesn't have to bend down," Kaiba answered like it was obvious, and Jounouchi was an idiot for even having to ask. "Now, she has breakfast at seven and dinner at eight. The automatic feeder gives her dry food at lunch, so you don't have to be here for that but you will have to fill it up. Do _not_ give her cheese. I don't care how much she likes it, it's not healthy for cats. I'm sure you can nose your way around the rest of the cupboards with little difficulty. Eat what you like, I only ask that—"

"Wait, wait," Jounouchi interrupted, waving his palms in a 'slow down' gesture. "Does she need the whole candlelit dinner for two? What am _I_ eating your food for?" 

Shutting the cupboard with a click, Kaiba looked down at Jounouchi with the tiny head tilt he did when he thought Jounouchi wasn't making any sense. "And here I thought you'd enjoy the opportunity to eat me out of house and home," he drawled. 

"More your thing than mine, eh? Eh?" Jounouchi winked and finger gunned, and as always it earned him a very, _very_ tired look. There was just something so satisfying about that sigh, that flickering of eyelashes when Kaiba rolled his eyes like that. 

“...In _any_ case, I’d appreciate there being _something_ left when I get back,” Kaiba muttered, before strutting away and gesturing for Jounouchi to come upstairs. Following, Jounouchi assumed he'd be shown a supply cabinet maybe, or a cat carrier. Instead, Kaiba showed him to a laundry room, a small space with the sleekest washer and dryer set that Jounouchi had ever seen. It was an okay room, he supposed, but cramped with the two of them, and he had no clue as to why Kaiba was opening cabinets and showing him the contents. 

“Detergent and softener are in here, and clean sheets he—”

"Why are you—” Jounouchi interrupted him, and then himself when the tiny, shrinking room forced realisation out of him. “You want me to _stay_ here?”

Slowly, Kaiba turned around to look at him. The small space forced them to stand close together and for Jounouchi to have to tilt back a bit to meet his eyes properly; to see the impatient irritation written across those pale features, plain as the black grid lines on the white bed covers in the open cabinet. 

" _Obviously,_ " Kaiba glared. 

"But—" Jounouchi faltered, casting about for words that he could haphazardly bang together into a coherent response. "But—" 

"But _what_ , mutt?" Kaiba snapped at his hesitation, folding his arms over his chest. "Spit it out. I don't have time for you to go barking in circles."

Part of Jounouchi wanted to collapse on the floor in hysterics. Most of him was too busy panicking. "I said I’d look after her, not be a fucking—I dunno— _housewife_ for a damn _cat!_ ” 

Raising an eyebrow, Kaiba shifted to lean against the counter. “Don't be so dramatic,” he retorted. “It's not even a week. I'm sure you'll adapt to the harsh environmental conditions here without too much difficulty.”

“But it's—" The small, domestic room seemed to press in around them. "It's _your_ —I don't—"

"Transporting her is an ordeal, I'm not moving her to _your_ apartment," Kaiba continued over his feeble protests. There was an expression Jounouchi hadn’t seen in a long time making its merry way across Kaiba’s sharp features, his chin tilted slightly up, making it more difficult to reach his eyes than ever. Jounouchi hadn't been on the receiving end of that specific face, that higher-than-thou, above-it-all tone, for years, and it stung with a vicious, poisonous lash. Jounouchi felt like he was blistering, like he'd been rubbed with poison ivy. 

"Besides, I doubt it's habitable for anyone but yourself," Kaiba added as an afterthought. 

“That is _not—_ ” Jounouchi stopped himself when he realised he’d curled his hands into fists. Putting his palms together in front of his chest, he took a deep breath. “One, _fuck you_ , you got no idea what my place is like. Two, I said I'd feed her and shit, you didn't say _anything_ about me _staying_ here.”

"I asked if you'd _look after_ her."

“And I will!” Jounouchi protested, voice lifting into a shrill whine despite himself. “She’ll have food, she’s got that fancy space box, the hell does she need me living here for?” 

"She's an autonomous being, you imbecile—she takes a little more responsibility than your stupid little desk plants," Kaiba ground out, voice raised and words slowed like Jounouchi was a toddler throwing paint everywhere in a petulant fit. As if to help prove his point, Saggi herself jumped up onto the washer, tail swishing with agitation, and knocked over a near-empty box of limescale prevention tablets. "You can’t just dump water on her and leave it at that."

More than the name-calling, more than the insults, more than Kaiba shutting the cupboard door with a pointed click, it was the eye roll that did it. Not that Kaiba didn’t roll his eyes at Jounouchi constantly, but this one was the old one; the one without the fluttering; the one that was somehow stationary in its movement. It was the one that told Jounouchi he was a stupid, pathetic dog who didn’t even deserve to be in Kaiba’s presence, to grovel at his feet, let alone talk to him. 

A thousand hurts from years past battered at Jounouchi, and he wanted to scream and swing his fists about, regardless of how petty it was. Just like he always had, Kaiba remained entirely calm, and that was always the most unfair part. That Kaiba could make Jounouchi rage and fume, make him feel utterly and completely worthless over the tiniest of things, and Jounouchi couldn't affect Kaiba at all. 

Sometimes, Jounouchi was thankful for that. But this wasn't one of those times.

"You don't need to give me the moron treatment, asshole!" Jounouchi snapped with a glare, hot with anger and stupid, _stupid,_ misery. "So she's a cat—big deal! You leave her here every day when you go to work, don't you? She's not gonna burn the place down if I only pop in!" 

"Oh, so you _want_ to make the commute here twice a day? You'll wake up early and make it here before work every morning?” Kaiba countered, with a dismissive hand wave before folding his arms again. “Then by all means, inconvenience yourself. It hardly makes a difference to _me_."

A small voice at the back of Jounouchi's head pointed out that logically, Kaiba _did_ make sense. But still. Did he really expect Jounouchi to just _know?_ To uproot himself for nearly a week to look after a _cat?_ Of-fucking-course he did. Kaiba wanted a last minute nanny, and what Kaiba wanted, Kaiba always got. What had Jounouchi been expecting, really, that the asshole would start respecting him because they were fucking? Honestly, it was probably the other way round. You didn't hear someone ask you to slap them with your cock and come on their face and decide, actually, I think I respect this man more as a person now. 

Jounouchi fumed at Kaiba and at his own idiocy. “Y'know, when most people ask you to look after their pet, they mean feed it."

"And _I_ meant what I said. You agreed." 

"How the hell was I gonna know that! You're rich as all hell, don't you have someone else for this kinda shit?!" 

"I asked _you!"_ Kaiba finally snapped, eyes wide and blue and furious. "I asked _you_ , don't you—" 

Cutting himself off, Kaiba turned his head away with a sharp jerk. His jaw clenched, and he stayed like that for a few moments, sucking all the noise from the tiny room and leaving Jounouchi floating, motionless, in the sudden vacuum. From the top of the washer, Saggi herself meowed quietly, making both men startle and look at her. She fixed them both with enormous, confused eyes and a tail swishing in agitation, no doubt wondering what all the hullabaloo was about. 

Seeming almost to deflate, Kaiba reached out and smoothed a hand over her fur. "This is pointless," he quietly declared. “Leave. Go on your date. I have limited time to make other arrangements."

When Kaiba tried to brush past him and out of the room, Jounouchi reached out and caught his arm almost instinctively. A couple of months messing around, drama-free, and one blip into something outside that had them fighting over a damn cat.

The bastard was right. Jounouchi was being fucking stupid.

"Hold up, hold up,” he decided, pulling Kaiba back. He was still mad; at Kaiba, at himself. But he’d agreed. Jounouchi didn't go back on his word—and now that he could see past his own anger, Kaiba looked like a stress aneurysm in motion. Jounouchi didn’t want to be responsible for that. “I can still _do_ it. Even if I have to put up with living in this shithole.” 

He'd have to pack a bag, but it was manageable. More than manageable. Jounouchi could joke, but Kaiba's apartment was so much more comfortable than his own place, especially with the heat, and in a better location too. It'd be nice, like a little city holiday. Except not a holiday at all. Staying in Kaiba’s apartment and hanging out with his cat. Yeah, he could do that. 

“I just—I didn’t realise what you wanted, that's all,” Jounouchi finished lamely. 

Kaiba gave a slow, tiny nod. "I suppose I may have been… unclear, with my initial request," he said begrudgingly. "And frustrated, after."

"Yeah," Jounouchi exhaled with a little laugh and a few nods of his own. "Yeah, me too. Sorry."

"Quite," muttered Kaiba, shifting in place. "You can let go now."

Looking down, Jounouchi realised he was indeed still holding Kaiba's bare forearm, the skin smooth and warm under his fingers. "Oh. Right." Jounouchi released him. "Sorry."

They stood together for another long moment in the tiny little laundry room, centimetres apart. Jounouchi could hear the quiet inhale and exhale of breath, feel the warmth radiating from Kaiba's skin. Jounouchi couldn't meet his eyes. His fingertips felt cold. 

"So… how's the washer work?" Jounouchi asked. "'Cause it looks like Hal 9000."

Starting with the space-age laundry appliances, Jounouchi was shown more of the little domestic elements of Kaiba's apartment that had escaped notice before: the thermostat, the AC, the water controls for the fancy-ass bathtub, a pass to the building’s gym and how to reach it; everything he might need to know to live there. Then there were things to watch out for the cat herself doing: shutting herself in rooms, climbing into the washing machine if he left the door open, rampaging through kitchen cabinets if they were left open too. A lot of it seemed to revolve around doors. 

The last thing Kaiba showed Jounouchi how to use was the tablet that controlled the TV, and they stood in the living room fiddling with it. Apparently Saggi liked watching esports, which Jounouchi called bullshit on until Kaiba put on some colourful first-person shooter tournament and she immediately came running to sit in front of the screen. It was so ridiculous Jounouchi couldn't do anything but gape. Of _course_ Kaiba's cat was a fucking gamer. 

"What do you usually do with her, when you're away? Clearly you don’t ask the neighbours," Jounouchi asked, watching the screen as one DPS player snuck up behind the enemy team, bobbing up and down in and out of crouch.

"I have little contact with them," Kaiba responded, tightening his refolded arms. Figured Kaiba wouldn’t trust any of the people he lived in the same building as to look after his gamer-cat. Jounouchi had a sudden horrific vision of Saggi being catnapped in a myriad of dramatic and unlikely ways. "There are a few people I take her to, Yuugi and Isono among them, but I'd prefer it if she was able to stay here. It would be… less stressful."

Action exploded onscreen and the commentators’ voices spoke rapidly, trying to keep up with the sudden fast pace of the match as one team enveloped the other in a pincer movement. Jounouchi guessed it made sense. Isono was a devoted whatever-he-was. Jounouchi had never really been sure if he was a bodyguard or a personal assistant or what. Right-hand man bizarrely kept around despite being pretty shit at his job. And Yuugi was, well, Yuugi. Him and Kaiba were still close, but Yuugi’s place wasn’t really the best for a cat. With all the people coming in and out of the shop Saggi could easily run into the street. She probably liked the cardboard boxes always lying about though, and Yuugi and Gramps would be adulating subjects for her reign of terror. 

"They could come here, though," Jounouchi said idly. 

He felt Kaiba shift next to him.

"S'pose Yuug' has to be at the shop with Gramps though," he continued musing. "Isono's probably got a family and stuff too, right?" 

"...Correct."

"Just me free as a bird then. The things I do for you, bitey-girl," Jounouchi sighed and stretched, cracking his neck from side to side, and stepped a little closer to his companion. "What's this last minute trip all about then? Duel Monsters coming to life and attacking innocent citizens?" He paused to consider. "Again?"

"Ugh, should I be so lucky," Kaiba grumbled in disgust, and Jounouchi laughed as Kaiba launched into an animated, derisive rant about why he was being forced to drag himself across the globe. Jounouchi understood maybe fifteen percent of it, and only because he caught the name Maximillion Pegasus, which was enough to sympathise with Kaiba's distress at the whole ordeal. 

When Kaiba started using phrases like _multi-sided market_ Jounouchi gave up trying to follow what he was saying. Uncomprehending, Jounouchi nodded along anyway, just listening to the gravelly baritone of Kaiba's voice and examining his features. In the upset of earlier, he hadn't really taken in the bags under Kaiba's eyes, or the way he seemed more animated than usual, a too-strong scent of coffee on his breath. No wonder he'd snapped—that whole fight, letting Jounouchi stay in his home, it was just because he wanted his stupid, precious cat to be happy while he was away. It was sweet, really. Caring. Kaiba had always had something of a tunnel vision, when he cared about something.

Reaching a particularly enraging element of his misfortune, Kaiba's eyes widened a little, and Jounouchi suddenly realised that those tempered steel eyes had faint stains of brown around the pupils. His right eye had two tiny little flecks of rust.

Biting his lip, Jounouchi looked up at Kaiba, at the sharp cheekbones and long eyelashes; at the tired eyes and the bags underneath them; the various moles dotted about. The clothed shoulder that Jounouchi knew a single, persistent black hair grew out of. The slight sweat stains on his white undershirt. Jounouchi thought of all the times he’d seen that long, impassive marble face flicker into a scowl, or a smirk; of the way his jaw clenched and his nose wrinkled and his eyes rolled; of the way his lips twitched when he was amused. It was a nice twitch, Jounouchi thought, even when it was at his own expense. And after all these years, Kaiba still got under Jounouchi's skin like no one else.

Jounouchi had the realisation that Kaiba was beautiful; that he thought Kaiba was beautiful. 

“In any case, it's getting late, and I need to pack,” Kaiba sighed, padding away. Jounouchi felt mildly sick as he watched him go, insides fluttering and writhing like butterflies hatching, or larvae devouring leaves, or so many maggots in the stomach of a corpse.

Then Kaiba paused, steps slowing to a hovering halt at the bottom of the stairs, and he just barely turned his head back to Jounouchi. “Didn't you have a date to get to?” he asked. 

“Yeah… yeah, I do,” Jounouchi said numbly. 

Kaiba's head turned back to face fully away again. "Then you know the way out," he said, thumping upstairs and out of sight. 

* * *

On the first night, when Jounouchi showed up just in time to feed her on schedule, Saggi was waiting. Tail flicking, sitting up straight, she sat watching the front door expectantly, and gave Jounouchi a confused look when he arrived. 

"Just us for the next few days, clown-baby," he told her, stroking her on the head. She didn't relax into it. "All night party time. When the Kaiba's away, the cool cats'll play, right?" 

Turning back to watching the door, Saggi ignored dinner completely. Jounouchi tried picking her up to take her to her food, and was immediately screeched at and scratched. So much for her liking him. 

Everything was easy enough to find again, and Kaiba had even gone to the trouble of writing and printing out a guide of what to do in case of an emergency: what vet to call, how to get there, Isono's number in case Jounouchi needed to be elsewhere. Kaiba's human food was mostly pre-prepared meals or stuff that was otherwise easy—honestly, his stash of canned lentils could've been on a hoarders show—and Jounouchi was able to feed himself without any technical trouble. The peace lily’s soil was completely dry so he watered it, only to remember that it was fake. 

Sleeping in Kaiba's enormous bed was weird. Jounouchi didn't manage it for hours. 

It was a strange, new, hesitant routine to step into, staying at Kaiba's place: taking a different train, going to different stores where the people didn't know him. The penthouse was so much larger and cleaner than what Jounouchi was used to, and made him feel isolated, all the way up in the sky. The second night, Jounouchi came back to find Saggi scratching at the door to what Kaiba had said was his study, and told him not to go in.

But when she stopped mooning over her human's absence, Saggi livened the place up to the point that Jounouchi almost wished she was still down in the dumps. His temporary roommate alternated between cute and annoying at breakneck speeds: she sat on the kitchen table and kept him company while he ate, but repeatedly tried to swipe food right in front of his eyes; she looked adorable curled up like a shrimp on his clothes, until he realised she was getting fur all over them. Leaping on his chance while Kaiba was away, Jounouchi made an attempt to sample the waters of the darkly seductive bathtub. He had just settled into the steaming pool to relax, vista of Domino City under twilight spread before him, when there was an inquisitive meow, a splash, a horrible caterwaul, and then Jounouchi had to wrangle a panicking cat out of the tub. Complaining at her in a whine while he dried her off with a towel, he nevertheless forgave her at the sight of those enormous amber eyes looking pitifully up at him.

Every night she walked litter-covered paws all over the bed before taking up more space than she had any right to, and every morning she made sure Jounouchi got up by batting him in the face until he kept his eyes open, and then meowing continuously until he fed her. 

Jounouchi was beginning to see why she was named after a clown monster. 

"Six AM, Yuug'. Like clockwork. She _knows_ she's not allowed food until seven," Jounouchi complained as he sat on Yuugi's bed, making headway into his order from Burger World. Nuggets. Fries. Gifts to humanity. "How the hell does _Kaiba_ of all people put up with such an annoying brat cat."

Yuugi sat at the desk with his own burger, held in one hand as he alternately clicked and typed with the other. "Thought we'd never find something that could wake you up," he said with bright amusement. 

"My alarm works fine, thanks. You ever gonna let me in on this project or what?" 

"Not yet. It's a mess, it's barely anything right now…" 

Looking after the shop and his grandpa were still Yuugi's number one priorities, but he'd been working on making a game of his own for so long that Jounouchi had forgotten when he'd started, a passion project that he barely had the time for. For all that he talked about his excitement for it, Yuugi was incredibly tight-lipped when it came to any of the details, refusing to share anything about it until he deemed it 'ready'—which he still insisted it wasn't anywhere close to. But if Jounouchi had one talent, it was bothering people. He'd get him to break eventually. 

"Saggi actually helped a bit, when she was here last," Yuugi remarked, taking an enormous bite of burger that he technically shouldn't have been capable of. "I'd hit a wall and she stood on the keyboard. Erased everything I'd been working on. She was right as well—I needed to start from stratch, and she made me do it." 

Jounouchi laughed. Yuugi, god of patience, finding the silver lining of a cat deleting all his work. He imagined the little tortoiseshell typing away at code with her weird thumbed paws, frowning as she encountered a bug and attempted to hunt it down by pouncing on the monitor, tail thrashing. Kaiba's apartment was unrealistically clean and devoid of insects, but Yuugi's bedroom was providing a safe home for a tiny moth that fluttered around in an oddly lazy fashion. Frequently, it would flap around Jounouchi’s head, and he'd instinctively reach out to catch it. It was slow enough that he succeeded one-handed every time, only to release it again and watch it float away on another lap of the room. 

On his way to Yuugi’s, he’d seen a wonderfully fat rat in the bushes near the metro stop, and he had the strongest urge to message Kaiba about it for no reason. ‘Saw a rat today. Thought of you.’ 

When they'd finished eating, conversation lapsed into the quiet of Yuugi humming and clacking at his keyboard. Lying back on the bed, looking up through the skylight at the clouds, Jounouchi—who was never entirely comfortable with silence, even with Yuugi—couldn't stop himself asking, "What do you and Kaiba do?" 

The humming and clacking stopped for a moment. "What do you mean?" 

Jounouchi propped himself up on his elbows to look over at his friend. "You and Kaiba—you hang out, right? What do you do?" 

Leaning back in his chair, Yuugi touched a finger to his chin in thought, large owl eyes drifting off to the left in recollection. "Well, we get lunch, or dinner, or drinks. Mostly we call each other to chat while we work—he's given me a lot of help with this," he indicated his computer. "Not so much in tech advice, but just in being there to bounce ideas around. And tech advice too. If I mention a specific problem he won't rest until he's figured it out." Yuugi rolled his eyes with a small smile as he settled forward again to examine something on his screen. "He's offered to help me take it to a big publisher or take it on at KaibaCorp, actually, but it's personal for me so I said no. I don't think he gets it, but he only tried again twice, and I appreciate that."

Jounouchi nodded with a frown. Lunch, dinner, drinks, conversation. "You don't duel or anything?" 

Shaking his head, Yuugi gave Jounouchi an odd look. "You know neither of us duel anymore," he said, leaning back to swivel and properly assess Jounouchi with an analytical eye, which ironically wouldn't've been out of place in a dueling arena. "Why are you asking all of a sudden?"

"Just curious," Jounouchi mumbled. His hand flew up of its own volition to catch the moth again, and he blinked before letting it fly out through his relaxed fingers. He was hyper-aware of Yuugi watching him the whole time. "Still. His place is nice. Tub's bonkers."

Yuugi hummed and turned back to his computer. "It's nice that he's letting you stay there," he commented. 

Snorting, Jounouchi shook his head. "S'just for convenience sake. So I don't have an excuse to miss his cat's breakfast."

"He's letting you stay in his home, Jou, unwatched," Yuugi said patiently, giving him that gently amused look he used to make when they were practicing dueling and Jounouchi was just learning the ropes. "Call me an optimist, but that's a bit more than just convenience."

Opening his mouth to argue, Jounouchi found that he couldn't. He could only think that Yuugi's optimism went in a different direction to his own. 

He looked up through the skylight. Blue and white bore back down upon him. "I… I guess," Jounouchi conceded. The moth ambled back past, and he instinctively reached up to catch it again. 

Yuugi reached out and stopped his hand. The delicate insect fluttered past, bumbling through freedom. 

"Either let it be or put it outside," Yuugi chided. "You're just gonna hurt it if you keep doing that."

"Yeah, sorry…" 

Watching the moth settle finally on Yuugi's monitor, Jounouchi came to a sudden, affronted realisation and turned to his betraying friend. "Wait, you've told Kaiba about your game but not _me?_ " 

Yuugi brought up his hands to defend himself, but Jounouchi was well practiced in the art of the affronted but gentle noogie.

* * *

It was nearly nine at night when Saggi suddenly perked up from her inconvenient spot on Jounouchi’s hand—he’d tried telling her it wasn’t a _real_ mouse, it was electronic, but she wouldn’t listen—to scamper to the front door with her tail in the air. Cat super-senses, Jounouchi guessed, and sure enough there was a resounding click from the lock and happy meowing as Kaiba arrived back home. Jounouchi both had the childish urge to leap out and surprise him and the even more childish urge to hide under the table. He compromised by slumping in his seat, sliding down so his head wouldn’t be visible but he could still clearly hear the rolling of suitcase wheels and tapping of footsteps. 

“Thank you, Isono, you’re dismissed. I will see you in the morning.” 

“Of course. Good night, Mr. Kaiba.”

Jounouchi heard the faint sound of Isono retreating, the even fainter _woosh_ of the elevator door sliding shut before— 

“Hello, muppet,” Kaiba’s low voice rumbled pleasantly through the air, with a bubbly quality like champagne—no, not champagne, too cold and fancy, this was a warm fizz. Pepsi, maybe. Jounouchi had never heard him do it before, but it was _definitely_ a baby-talk voice. "Yes, I missed you too.”

Peeking over the back of the couch, Jounouchi's stomach twisted at the sight of him; bags under his eyes, hair limp and mildly bedragged, leaning against the doorframe for support, but nevertheless smiling softly at the cat in his arms. Holding her against his chest with her front on his shoulder, his eyes were closed as he put his face in her fur, suitcase abandoned behind him. 

It was odd. Jounouchi had often heard that morbid romantic phrase, _took my breath away,_ seen its origins up close and personal. But his lungs felt full, fuller than ever, and his throat clear even as his chest burned. Breathing came easy. 

So did fear, and the tiniest flicker of hope wreathed in guilt. 

“And what about me?” Jounouchi joked, but it came out less confident than he wanted it to. He felt like he was intruding—which he kind of was. Technically, he could’ve left over an hour ago. Had _said_ he would leave an hour ago. 

Kaiba momentarily froze, then carefully looked up at him, no doubt thinking the same thing. “You’re still here,” he said, voice back to normal, stroking Saggi with one hand while she purred loud enough to be heard from the afterlife and nuzzled under his chin. 

“Didn’t wanna leave until you got back,” Jounouchi said, rising from the couch to tuck his laptop into his bag before approaching slowly. “In case you got delayed, or... something.”

“I would have called.” It didn’t feel like a reproach or an assurance. Just a statement. Jounouchi felt himself being analysed by those steel blue eyes for hidden agendas, and was a little offended despite the fact that he certainly had one. 

Just so he wasn’t standing there like the immobile moron he was dangerously close to becoming, heart thumping a little faster than usual, Jounouchi reached up to pet Saggi himself and carefully avoided Kaiba’s hand and his eyes as he did. 

“Saw a rat the other day,” Jounouchi blurted out. 

When he looked up, the _Jounouchi-you-make-no-sense_ expression was making its incredulous way onto Kaiba’s face. 

“Thought of you," Jounouchi clarified sheepishly. 

Kaiba’s lip twitched. “Flattering. Do you also think of me whenever you look in the mirror?” Before Jounouchi could retort with the factoid that rats were highly clean and intelligent animals so he was proud to be a rat, thank you very much, Kaiba spoke again. "I saw Kujaku briefly."

"Mai?" Jounouchi startled at the mention of his old friend. "When you were away?" 

"No, Jounouchi, on the drive from the airport," Kaiba said. "Yes, when I was in America. We spoke. She is well, and asked after you. You used to be enamored, I recall."

Everyone always said that. If by 'enamoured' they meant 'didn't want to die' then Jounouchi supposed they were right. Jounouchi had felt a lot of things towards Mai—envy, pity, respect, warmth. Guilt. But despite his attempts, real attraction had not been one of them.

"It wasn't like that," Jounouchi muttered with a tired shake of the head. "It's complicated."

"Hmph." Placing Saggi gently back on the floor where she happily trotted off, satisfied that her person was back, Kaiba continued with his rare bout of genial small talk. “Am I to take it that your date went poorly?”

Jounouchi blinked in confusion as Kaiba stalked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. “Huh?”

“Your date,” Kaiba repeated after taking a long gulp. “Seeing as you are still here at this hour, it must’ve gone poorly.” 

Oh, that. “I uh, missed it, actually. Not because of being here! Well, kind of because of being here—got there a minute late and he’d already scarpered,” Jounouchi rambled, very aware that his heart rate was rising and his palms sweating. 

He _had_ been late, but Pensions had not been the one that scarpered. But after spending ten minutes trying and failing to read the menu, not processing a single word that was sent his way, Jounouchi had stammered out an apology and practically run home. Unsurprisingly, Pensions hadn't attempted to contact him again. 

“What an asshole, right?” Jounouchi ended with a nervous laugh.

“Then I accept his thanks for saving him the evening,” Kaiba said flatly. 

“Oi!” Jounouchi grinned and swatted Kaiba on the arm. "Asshole. You're lucky you're hot."

The view from the small kitchen window was dark and obscured by their reflections under the kitchen light. Jounouchi’s gaze fell to their mirrored torsos, finding himself unable to look at Kaiba’s eyes even in the glass as he stood closer, bumping their arms together. It had been a longer time than usual between their trysts, and Jounouchi was feeling it all the more keenly; not in the burning, writhing way he usually felt that drove him to rocking into Kaiba’s pillows, just with the overwhelming want to rest his head against his shoulder. 

"Not the end of the world, eh? Still got you," he murmured, ghosting a hand down Kaiba’s back.

There was a beat of silence. "Indeed," Kaiba murmured, and there was the sound of the tap running. The slosh of liquid filling his glass again had a echoing, howling quality, like a coffee pot boiling or a house on fire. “'Still got me.'” 

Jounouchi felt rather than saw Kaiba drink down his glass again before setting it to the counter with a halting clack. Leaning his hands on the counter in front of him, Kaiba said in a perfectly measured tone, “I am sorry that you missed your date, but I have had a long journey.”

Every nerve in Jounouchi’s body jolted, hand still at Kaiba’s waist. “...What?”

Turning to look up at Kaiba, Jounouchi found him glowering at the tap, like he hadn’t just said _sorry_ , to _Jounouchi_ of all people, for something that hadn’t even happened and wouldn't've been his fault if it had. 

“What?” Kaiba grunted, straightening up. “You want a real relationship, preferably one not orchestrated by that overenthusiastic coworker of yours.”

Jounouchi stumbled for a response, because he _did_ , but— “Well, yeah—”

“Then I am sorry you missed your date,” Kaiba repeated, turning to give Jounouchi a blank stare. It didn’t look particularly apologetic. It didn’t look anything else either; just cold, carved marble. “Our arrangement is convenient, but I am under no illusions of it lasting.” 

When Jounouchi said nothing, merely stood, burnt and spiralling down like a dead leaf in autumn, Kaiba wrapped his fingers around his wrist to remove the hand from his waist. His eyes narrowed at Jounouchi like he was bacteria under a microscope, tiny and parasitic, and it was with a wry misery that Jounouchi again thought to himself that Kaiba was beautiful. 

“And I have had a long journey,” Kaiba continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “Seeing as you are incapable of reading between the lines, that means I am not going to fuck you tonight. You may leave."

Then he dropped Jounouchi's wrist, turned, and poured himself another fucking glass of water. 

_Convenient._ That was what Kaiba had said before, too. _Convenient._ Kaiba clearly wasn't interested in having him around for any reason beyond the physically useful. _Convenient. You may leave._

All of Jounouchi’s fear and hope was exhaled in an instant, and cold, dull, angry _relief_ filled the vacuum. 

Grinning even wider, wide enough that it pained his lips and cheeks and the corners of his eyes, Jounouchi clapped Kaiba on the shoulder hard enough that choked and coughed on his water. "Rest up then!" he spat, and then grabbed his bag and sped to the door. 

Kaiba didn't say anything in the way of a goodbye as Jounouchi pulled his shoes on, but Jounouchi didn't expect or want him to. The only thing he heard behind him was the hollow sloshing of water filling a glass as he fled. 

There was an empty beer can on the sidewalk when Jounouchi stumbled onto the street, a twisting feeling in his chest. It stuck out in this part of the city, this lone piece of trash on the otherwise immaculate, empty road. Jounouchi kicked it and it flew across the tarmac with a scraping rattle, ricocheting between the raised sidewalks on either side of the thin sidestreet. It didn't get rid of the lump in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know im the one writing him, but [me @ jou in this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTKhOvBNakM)
> 
> ALSO [LOOK LOOK MARLY DID ART FOR THE LAST CHAPTER](https://nnarly.tumblr.com/post/635980301129121793/dominocity-shoots-u-with-my-simp-gun-hi-lydia-i)


	8. The Forest For the Petrified Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Missing the forest for the trees_ • To to not understand or appreciate a larger situation, problem, etc., because one is considering only a few parts of it.

Slumped on a scratchy seat, Jounouchi shook with the motions of the bus as he rode out to the western edge of Domino City. This part of the route ran along a raised highway above the buildings, and Jounouchi could see the city through the mist of drizzle; flat polygons emerging from hot, featureless orange air, as if in a shitty 2000s game with render distance set low. 

It took him back to days spent messing around on the school computers with Honda—they'd found some pretty fun dumb games in their computer science classes. Jounouchi remembered the one where you played as a pigeon, flying around and trying to shit on people, with nostalgic fondness. Sweat greased his skin and hair, encasing him in a gelatinous shell, and he tugged at his collar, wondering if the birds with all their fluffy feathers were this uncomfortable in the heat. 

Packed in the cramped bus among similarly jellied bodies, Jounouchi snorted to himself. Kaiba had a point, summer _was_ an atrociously sticky season. But Jounouchi didn't want to linger too long on those kinds of thoughts. Instead, he thought longingly of being a seal in the Arctic. Yes, that would be the life: to be a fat, round sack of blubber. No limbs to get sweaty and itchy in the crevices, no hair to get greasy and tug on his scalp all by itself; no tall, sarcastic, chestnut-haired seals to get him down. Just flopping about on the ice. What a life that would be. 

The bus reached his stop. Jounouchi heaved himself to his feet, using the enormous and heavy package he carried as a battering ram to get past other passengers, stepping out into air which offered no relief from the heat whatsoever. He fumbled to get his phone out, standing on one foot and balancing the box on one knee, opening his gallery to find the photo of Google Maps open on his laptop. A bit convoluted maybe, but it saved on data, and the old phone could barely handle most apps. 

Domino City’s outskirts were an organised mess of narrow roads, overhanging power lines, and barely detached two-story buildings, but still a mess. Jounouchi checked street signs as he walked until he reached a narrow, pale pink, slatted house on a corner, with two neatly trimmed shrubs in square pots along the wall. Arms straining to keep carrying the box, he nevertheless refused to put it down even as he elbowed the buzzer. Jounouchi would not be defeated so easily. 

Thankfully, Yamagishi answered quickly, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top. “Jounouchi! Thank you, please come in,” she greeted him, then shouted up the stairs with the lungs of an opera singer, "Eriko! Jounouchi's here!" 

Around two seconds passed, and Yamagishi put her hands on her hips. "Eriko! Get down here!" she hollered up to the still empty stairs before turning to Jounouchi. "Would you like tea? We have sencha, tencha, barley—ah, ginger with honey? Good for sore throats."

Jounouchi forced an instinctual grimace into something smile-adjacent. "Ginger it is, thanks."

Standing on each of his heels in turn to pull his shoes off, Jounouchi took in what he could see of his team leader's house. Stacks of books nested at the side of each of the first three steps on the stairs, a calendar with an image of a tropical shore and a scribble-filled schedule hung from one wall, and Jounouchi’s shoes joined an impressive collection of boots on a rack.

A light creak drew his attention to the stairs as a young woman who couldn't be more than twenty emerged, neatly dressed in a short sleeve shirt and shorts. She slammed rapidly down the stairs with a nervous, excited energy. "Holy shit," she gaped once she reached the bottom step, barely level with him despite the higher ground and looking up with wide, awed eyes. “You’re really—”

Her mother elbowed her. " _Language_ in front of guests," she hissed, despite the fact that she unavoidably heard Jounouchi swear up a storm on a regular basis.

Standing gobsmacked for a second before cracking into a delighted grin, Jounouchi stuck his chin up. _Finally,_ some _recognition._ "Hi. Katsuya Jounouchi, at your service,” he beamed, awkwardly sticking his hand out around the box for Eriko to shake. "Heard it's your birthday soon," he said. "Happy birthday."

Worried that her daughter’s birthday present would arrive at a time no one would be home to receive it, Yamagishi had had it delivered to the office instead. Naturally this meant it got delivered when she wasn’t there, so Jounouchi offered to bring it over at the end of the day. He hadn’t remembered that Yamagishi’s daughter was a duelist until he was halfway there, and had braced himself for a lack of reaction.

It was a nice surprise to know that even if he wasn’t Yuugi or Kaiba level, there were _some_ Duel Monster fans who knew who he was. More than nice. If he hadn't been carrying a large, heavy object, Jounouchi would've been tap-dancing.

Yamagishi elbowed her daughter in the side again. "Say thank you," she said in an authoritative tone that didn’t translate to her face—she seemed to find the exchange funny, which Jounouchi was rather offended by. Eriko's reaction should've been the standard. “He came out all this way-”

“Ohmygodthankyousososomuch—Imean—thankyou!” Eriko’s eyes were still wide as she sucked her bottom lip in, and nodded to the box still in Jounouchi’s arms. “I can, um, take that off you now.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Jounouchi responded despite the strain in his arms. Like hell was he going to let this angel do any heavy lifting. “Where’d you want it?”

Yamagishi announced that she was going to make tea, and Jounouchi was guided up the stairs. He maneuvered around a laundry hamper and a drying rack before finally being able to heave the box down in Eriko’s room. Rolling his shoulders out as he straightened up again, Jounouchi took in the small space; the window open for air but blinds down to stop the heat getting in; the girl group posters; the messy desk with an old, battered laptop and a wrist support mouse pad made to look like some video game dude’s ass. 

But the main thing that got Jounouchi’s attention, wedged behind the desk and slamming the skip out of his step, was the large cardboard cutout of Kaiba.

Simply but suavely dressed, he was advertising the sleek new DuelDisk 4.0 on his arm with one of his ridiculous old dueling poses, and accessorised no doubt by Eriko with a fabric, rainbow lei. Jounouchi wanted to take a photo and show it to him. Jounouchi _didn’t_ want to take a photo and show it to him. Jounouchi thought it was stupid how many conflicting feelings he was getting from looking at a fucking cardboard cutout with flowers around its neck. 

“Your mom said you were a fan,” he forced himself to say. 

“Yeah! I can’t believe she met him—but you actually _know_ him!” Eriko burst out with a wide and excited grin that stretched all across her cheeks, hands flapping with kinetic awe. “You were in Battle City, you _dueled_ him, you—what's he like, in real life? Is he always so," she waved her hands haphazardly, " _cool?_ Is he really—” she cut herself off, briefly holding her hands to her mouth before drawing them down. “Sorry, I’m being inappropriate, aren't I.”

Jounouchi shrugged. “It’s chill, I get it. He’s… ” he hesitated, looking for the right words. “Well, he’s Seto Kaiba.” He swallowed. “Where’d you get 'im?” 

“Oh, my friend works in a game store. They got an extra so she snuck him out for me,” Eriko said happily, reaching out to adjust the fake garland to lie like a flowery, multi colored necktie. “He’s my study buddy! If Seto Kaiba can invent SolidVision at thirteen, I can finish this paper even if it's making my brain bleed, right?” 

"Huh. Right." Jounouchi had never thought of it like that. When he'd looked to Kaiba for motivation, it had been in more of a spiteful sense. 

Eriko wrung her hands together nervously, almost looking Jounouchi in the eye. “And you know him, right? Can I ask you to do something?”

Jounouchi looked at the cardboard cutout, and then back at her with skepticism. “You’re not gonna ask me to steal his used tissues or some shit, are you?”

“No! Noooonono, ewwwww, don’t be gross, he’s like, my da—I’m not _that_ kind of fan,” Eriko spluttered, and turned to rummage through paper piles on the desk. She soon found what she was looking for: a sealed envelope with no address. “I know, fanmail, _eugh_ , embarrassing, but… could you give it to him?” 

Watching Eriko hold the envelope in one hand, nervously tapping it against the other, Jounouchi remembered the discussion he really shouldn’t’ve been listening to that night at the bar. “I can try,” he sighed, searching for tactful words. He had no idea what Kaiba did with his no doubt copious amounts of fanmail. “He’s a busy guy though, and we ain’t close.”

“He doesn’t have to read it,” Eriko said, holding the letter out. “Just—get it. If that makes sense.”

Taking the envelope, running a finger along one sharp edge, Jounouchi wasn’t sure he understood. What was the point if he didn’t read it? 

"Hey," Eriko whispered. "Those pap pics of him with Mai Kujaku in America—is it true they're like, a _thing?_ Since _Battle City?_ " 

The hushed gossip startled a snort out of Jounouchi. "Nah, that ain't happening." He knew Mai wouldn't go for that. As for Kaiba, he had no clue, but certainly not _then_. 

Eriko nodded rapidly and seriously. "Yeah, didn't think so. He's been famous for what, fifteen years, and _never_ had a public relationship? They're just desperate for anything to prove he's not gay."

Jounouchi wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he just stood there with his mouth slightly open until he was saved by Yamagishi calling them down.

Tea was served in a fine bone china set, painted with landscapes of rolling watercolour hills under clear skies, and Jounouchi felt a bead of sweat run down his neck as he nervously handled his delicate cup. Through the glass panelled kitchen door, he saw a tiny patio garden that could barely fit the metal table and chairs it housed. Its high walls were covered in ivy, and the sandy gravel was a mess of overgrown weeds; green dotted with white, blue, and yellow. 

Sipping from her own cup, Yamagishi noticed Jounouchi looking at the small box of wilderness. “I keep trying to clean it up,” she sighed. “But I barely have the time, and they always come back anyway.”

“I could have a go at it if you want,” Jounouchi offered. “The ivy needs to get a strong herbicide so you get it off without damaging the wall, but ground weeds are easy enough; can just make a mix of salt and vinegar and spray it on. Adding some mulch under the gravel’ll make it harder for them to come up too.”

Rocking her chair on its back legs, Eriko was eager to get back to more interesting topics of conversation. "Do you still play Duel Monsters ever? Are you gonna be at the KC Grand Prix this year? For the fifteenth anniversary? I heard Yuugi Mutuo's gonna be there!" 

First Jounouchi had heard about any of it. "Uh, probably not," he mumbled. "Me, that is, I dunno about Yuugi."

"Aw man, that would've been so cool," Eriko pouted, slouching in disappointment. 

"Put it in your letter, maybe the great man himself'll agree," Jounouchi said sarcastically. 

Eriko immediately perked up. "Shit, yeah!" 

"Language, Eriko!" her mother scolded as she snatched her fanmail back, running off with the letter while Jounouchi thought about slamming his head down on the table to replace it. 

Leaving with the plan of coming back to fix up the tiny garden after Yamagishi ordered supplies, Jounouchi suggested he'd bring his deck next time, to which Eriko practically bounced and promised she'd eviscerate him with a conviction that would've made her idol proud. Without a bag or a jacket, Jounouchi had to clutch the unmarked envelope in his hands all the way home. He twirled it around and around with his fingertips as he leaned his face against the juddering windows, first of the humming bus, then of the rattling metro carriage. More than once, he had to stop himself instinctively balling it up and kneading it to a crumpled mess like every single one of his receipts. 

When he got home, Jounouchi placed it next to Shoot so he wouldn’t lose track of it until he’d see Kaiba again the next day, and set about getting himself dinner. He pottered about in his tiny kitchen with the surfaces covered in half finished jars and bottles—so different from Kaiba's expanse of mostly clear counters—mustering together the ingredients for curry. Kaiba hated curry, he'd mentioned that when they'd debate-argued over where to order from once. Jounouchi wondered if he’d be eating take out the next day. 

As much as he mocked Jounouchi for his simple tastes and constantly protested the low-brow dining, Kaiba was an eager devourer of junk food, even if he ate his fries with chopsticks so he didn’t have to get salt on his fingers. It was so stupid, he always washed his hands after eating anyway. It made Jounouchi smile briefly to think about, before he stamped down on the horrible bubbling feeling in his chest. Peeling an onion, he stopped himself from rubbing at his watering eyes. That would only make it worse. 

After he'd stormed home from looking after that damned cat, flung himself onto his couch bed and stewed until morning, Jounouchi had calmed himself down as life continued as normal. What was there to be upset about? He'd always known nothing could happen beyond a casual fuck, that was why he'd suggested it in the first place. Everything was going perfectly. Perfectly! 

Jounouchi chopped at the onion with vicious hacks, sending shrapnel flying across the counter and onto the floor. So what if Kaiba was beautiful? That was just an objective fact, no matter what Shizuka said. And Honda. And Ryuzaki. Vision blurring, Jounouchi dumped the onion shards in the pot and set the heat on before attacking a potato. So what if he liked his long, stupid, frowny face, the low drawl of his insults, the feel of his ridiculously big hands? It didn’t mean anything. 

The smell of burning burrowed into Jounouchi's nostrils and down his throat, and he coughed and swore with a myriad of colourful phrases when he realised he must've forgotten the oil. He compensated by adding too much in a frenzy. Honestly, the guy was an acerbic asshole who couldn't just smile unless it was a superior smirk; couldn't just mess around at a karaoke bar without it being made a competition; could apparently stay talking to Yuugi, and _Anzu_ of all people, for all these years but not say a word to _him_. So what if every time Jounouchi saw the edges of his lips do that little outward tug of theirs, he got that savagely warm pang in time with their twitching; like he was being yanked on a thorny hook embedded in his chest, the thin vine held taut by Kaiba’s long, pale fingers on the other end. It didn’t mean anything. 

Coughs wracked their way through Jounouchi’s throat again. In his haste to grab a kitchen towel to cover his mouth, he knocked a bottle of sriracha sauce to the floor, and it smashed with a tinkle and a splatter of red. When the fit was over, Jounouchi's throat was raw. He dropped the filthy paper towel in disgust, and had to grip the counter hard to stop his hands shaking. 

Ugh. Now he’d need to do even more clean up. 

* * *

“Think fast!” Jounouchi yelled in greeting, and the envelope hit Kaiba square in the chest before dropping to the floor. 

Unsurprisingly, Kaiba gave him a dirty look before briefly flicking his eyes down. “If you insist on throwing things around, I insist on you picking them up,” he said, standing aside to let Jounouchi in before closing the door.

Huffing, Jounouchi crouched down to pick the letter back up, and to give Saggi a greeting pet on the head when she ran up to him to say hello. It was a now familiar routine: Jounouchi would greet Kaiba with some appropriate annoyance, Kaiba would give him a look that said the only reason he tolerated his company was that Jounouchi was an easy lay, and Saggi would completely misread the situation and act like they were all friends. Comforting, in its own way. 

“You remember Yamagishi? S’from her daughter,” Jounouchi said, thrusting the envelope out, white card now thoroughly grubbied by his sweaty fingertips. “She's a super-duper fan. Has a cardboard cutout of you in her room and everything, it's prett-y creep-y. Just take the damn thing so I can say I tried my best.” 

Plucking the envelope from Jounouchi’s hands, Kaiba slowly turned it over in a kind of hesitant examination. Only Kaiba was never hesitant, just skeptical. 

“You actually read any of the stuff people send you?” Jounouchi asked, fiddling with his bracelets. 

“Yes.” Kaiba strode briskly to place the unopened envelope on the low table, next to an unopened bottle of sake with two empty glasses ready. “You’re late. Have you eaten?” he called gruffly, breaking open the screw cap and beginning to pour. 

“Yup,” Jounouchi lied. 

Cooling now that he was in from the summer heat, Jounouchi pulled on the long sleeve shirt he'd brought and dumped himself in his usual spot—the deeply cushioned armchair, leaning into one armrest with his legs slung over the other. Kaiba retrieved something from a sideboard before taking his own—the closer end of the couch, elbow leaning on the armrest, long legs folded neatly in front of him. It occurred to Jounouchi quite suddenly that whenever Kaiba ordered in, he got some for himself too, but he only ever asked when Jounouchi actually arrived. Did that mean if Jounouchi had already eaten, Kaiba didn’t have anything? Maybe he just waited until he was gone again. 

Jounouchi squashed down the concern. It wouldn’t be welcome. 

"No deck?" Kaiba questioned as he sliced the fanmail open with a letter opener. 

"Nah," Jounouchi shrugged, and didn't elaborate, not even under the long stare that Kaiba gave him before starting to read. 

Rubbing his throat, Jounouchi ran his eyes over his companion critically. The routine. Greet. Pet cat. Banter. Sip drink—damn, this was the good stuff. Strong. 

Insult next. "You look like shit," Jounouchi found himself saying, almost by accident. 

Blue eyes flicked up to glare out from the recesses of two dark, baggy circles. The shadows under Kaiba's eyes were never entirely gone without the aid of concealer, but they were worse than usual; two dusty, purple smears on his skin, like powder applied by the fingers of a five year old. He still sat as tall and straight as ever, but there was something off, something forced about it. And he wasn't responding. 

"No comeback? 'Speak for yourself, mutt'? 'Pot, kettle'? You're not sick, are you?" Jounouchi prodded, reaching up with one hand to gently rap his knuckles on Kaiba’s forehead. "You in there, fartbrain? _Helloooo."_

Kaiba twisted away and swatted the hand. "I am not _sick_ ," he muttered, clearing his throat before taking a long sip. "It's just been a long week."

Watching his eyes flick back and forth over the single page, Jounouchi bounced one foot restlessly. Was he still tired from the trip? It had been short notice. Something wrong at the company? Jounouchi wondered if he should contact the names mentioned last time to warn them of the unstoppable draconic tree-harvester headed their way to give them the chop, maybe rattle a few bones himself while he was at it. 

But there was no cutting, impassioned monologue about the brain-dead imbeciles and pesky lobbyists Kaiba put himself through interacting with. Instead, he was just too taut, somehow. It was like he'd been stretched, like the blu-tack Jounouchi had used to steal from display boards at school to toy with; squashing and kneading the soft putty until it was whisper thin and gently came apart between his fingertips. Then he'd mash it back together, rolling it with his palms until it was smooth. He'd make little snakes and snails and things with the stuff. A teacher had asked what he was fiddling with once, and Jounouchi had panicked, instinctively eating the little blue flower he'd made before saying 'nothing’.

Frowning, Jounouchi kicked his foot again, once, twice, then got up with a frustrated growl and headed to the kitchen. 

"Where are _you_ going?" Kaiba's voice followed him. 

Jounouchi didn't answer immediately as he began to rummage through Kaiba’s overly large fridge, shifting around boxes and jars and haughty looking yoghurt pots. “Forgot some stuff here, did you—ah ha!” He spotted what he was looking for shoved right into the back, behind a shiny white cardboard box with a thin gold ribbon around it. “What’s in the fancy box?” Jounouchi called as reached around the obstacle to get his singular, ready-made, chocolate dorayaki. 

“A gift from Pegasus,” Kaiba responded with reassuringly vibrant disgust. “Why he insists on importing confectionery from here to give to me in America is beyond comprehension.”

Jounouchi snorted. No wonder Kaiba was still tired, having to deal with that asshole. Contemplating his next move, he decided to investigate. “Lotta words there to say he’s a bag of dicks,” Jounouchi said, sliding the ribbon off. “Could just give it to someone else, y’know, instead leaving it in the fridge forever. I’m sure one of your henchmen would be stoked to get—” he flicked the lid up “—hakuto jelly?” 

Letting out a whistle, Jounouchi examined the six replica peaches, each nestled in a grass green paper basket. They looked a lot more expensive than the plastic pots he’d occasionally bought in shops. A _whole_ lot more. Way classier than Jounouchi would've expected from Pegasus—there wasn't a single cartoon anywhere. “Man, these shits look fancy. And kinda like butts. Maybe he was calling you a butt. Or a peach? That's a phrase, right? Ew, is Pegasus hitting on you? Gross."

“You must feel some kind of affinity with the man, to read into his actions so deeply," Kaiba called back in a throaty voice. "Perhaps it is him you should be antagonising with your presence.”

"Well _that's_ just fuckin' rude.” Jounouchi managed to restrain himself from prodding one of the delicacies with a finger. It seemed to tantalisingly wiggle at him anyway. "But you got a point. At least Pegasus knows how to treat a guy." 

“ _You_ have them, then," Kaiba decreed. 

"Huh? Thanks…" Jounouchi had to contend with a churning war in his chest even as he saw his opening. "You eat my pancake then. Swapsies."

Taking the lot back to the main area, he plonked himself right next to Kaiba on the couch instead of returning to his seat, bumping their legs together. He felt Kaiba jump slightly and didn't wait for a response before dropping the dorayaki into his lap. "I don't wanna sit here with you just watching me eat. That's some kind of sick fetish."

Appraising the offering with a critical eye before stabbing open the plastic wrapper with the letter opener, Kaiba tore off a piece with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. After a few chews, he wrinkled his nose in disapproval. 

"Not to your refined tastes, your most imperial majesty?" Jounouchi said sarcastically, picking up a gelatinous peach and trying to shove the whole thing in his mouth. The sweet fruit taste that burst on his tongue was exquisite, but Jounouchi enjoyed the feel of the cold jelly even more. It was refreshing after the humid heat of late July outside, slipping around his teeth and gums. 

"The cold chocolate is dissatisfying," Kaiba said decisively after swallowing. "It doesn't blend well wi—get a _spoon_ , you _animal_." 

Jounouchi couldn’t help cracking into a grin at Kaiba's curled upper lip, revealing a top row of perfect teeth smeared with chocolate. He continued digging into his second peach with his fingers to stuff slimy chunks into his mouth. "I got the spoons nature gave me. I'm being eco-friendly,” he said proudly, and a splotch of jelly fell out of his mouth and onto his knee. “Oops.” 

“You’re being disgusting,” Kaiba said flatly as Jounouchi wiped the splotch off with a finger and put it right back in his mouth. 

“ _Mmh,_ they’re _so_ good though. You should at least have _one_ ,” Jounouchi managed without spilling any this time, picking up the third by the basket, careful not to break its shape as he floated it towards his increasingly irate companion. “Here comes the airplane, wheeee.” 

Kaiba decisively snatched the dessert out of his hand, shoved it in his own mouth, and slapped the green paper basket against Jounouchi’s cheek sticky side first. “Crash landing.”

Yelping, Jounouchi clawed the paper off of his now slightly jellied face. “Arugh,” he complained. 

Really, Kaiba could be so childish sometimes. Jounouchi balled up the paper and threw it at his face, but Kaiba was prepared and deflected. It landed an inch in front of Saggi, who immediately sprung on the prey and started skittering around the wooden surface in a great clattering whirlwind of paws to kill it. 

"Mreowow!" warbled the cat as she slid off the table, tumbling down with flailing limbs to land with her back arched and eyes comically wide. 

Jounouchi couldn't help bursting into laughter at the scene. 

Kaiba sighed. "Idiot creature," he admonished softly, leaning down to scoop the hyperactive animal up into his lap. "Calm down. You're going to injure yourself," he continued, holding her to his chest, where she wriggled feebly and got her claws stuck in his ugly cardigan, blinking around with wide amber eyes as he patiently unhooked her. When she was freed from the net, Saggi flopped down across their legs, tail still flicking as she rolled onto her back. 

Kaiba's lips were twitching. Jounouchi felt the thorn in his chest tug at the front of his ribcage. 

"I'm sure she'll be fine," he managed, trying to clean his face with a hand. "Cats are hardy liquids." 

At the raised eyebrow Kaiba sent his way, Jounouchi attempted to clarify. "Y'know, they're all floppy?" He mimed a flowing motion. "Fleshy slinkies. She can handle a little fall."

"An astute medical analysis of the domestic feline," Kaiba shook his head. "'Floppy like slinkies.'"

Kaiba’s lips were still quirking as he turned back to reading Eriko’s letter. Not relaxed, exactly, but not so taut anymore. Mission: accomplished. At least Jounouchi was amusing, like a court jester, or a typo. 

Jounouchi was horribly aware of the aftershocks of laughter still thrumming through his chest, of his worry easing at the sight of Kaiba taking another bite of dorayaki. He turned away to avoid looking at him. 

"Ah, a last minute amendment. She says you appearing at my tournament this year would be 'poggers'," Kaiba commented, and Jounouchi heard the swish of flipping paper in his hand. 

"That's the youth of today for you," Jounouchi mumbled, running his fingers through the soft fur of Saggi's exposed belly, who responded by batting at his hand without a hint of claws. Her jaws snapped lazily just next to his skin, not bothering to even try and reach properly. Pretty pathetic, really. Who did she think she was fooling like that? 

"No contact information…" Kaiba mused aloud. "Hmm. You'll have to take my response."

Suddenly, Jounouchi couldn’t stand any of it anymore—the sitting together, eating together, any of it. So, letting out a shaking breath, he grabbed Kaiba by the jaw, screwed his eyes shut, and kissed him.

It wasn't a good kiss. It wasn't bad, exactly, but it wasn't good. It was clumsy, off rhythm. Started too hard with a bump of teeth. But Jounouchi had kissed Kaiba too many times before for it to be _bad_. He knew the landscape too well, the paths too familiar to him. He travelled the soft contours of Kaiba's lips instinctively, sucked at them instinctively, pried them open instinctively, even if a little slower, more gentle than usual, to make up for the rough start. Funny how an old mutt could learn new tricks like that. Funny like how Kaiba called him _convenient_ and Jounouchi had been furious, _was_ furious, but still found himself on his couch a week later, with the stupid fucking cat scrambling out of his lap because he couldn’t stay away. 

A hand slid up Jounouchi’s neck to run fingers through his hair. It made every cell in his body shiver, and he hated it. He hated it. He hated him. He _hated_ hi— 

With a miserable kind of amusement, Jounouchi felt his chest seize as he coughed—a small, pitiful, barely noticeable thing against Kaiba’s open mouth that he disguised with a hard press forward. A single petal spat from the back of his throat, and he felt Kaiba's delicate moan as he licked it back out of his mouth, swallowing it down with the taste of sake and cold chocolate and just a hint of peach. 

Jounouchi figured he probably couldn’t lie to himself anymore. The miniature carnations and yellow camellia petals he’d mopped from his kitchen counters the night before had been making that kind of difficult anyway.

When Jounouchi leaned back, Kaiba chased him for a moment before letting their lips part again. “You haven’t finished your drink,” he exhaled. 

“So?” Jounouchi retorted softly, eyes screwed shut. Like Kaiba gave a shit. “Why are we—why are we screwing around?" He didn’t. Jounouchi had just eaten the proof. "We both know I’m only here for one thing, and it sure as _hell_ ain’t friendly chit-chat, so let's just—fucking get _to_ it already.”

For a long moment, all Jounouchi knew was the shuddering of Kaiba's breath on his lips, loud in the absence of anything else, and the feel of his skin and the bones underneath. The hand in his hair. Jounouchi felt Kaiba’s jaw flex and his throat work, just minutely. 

“...Of course,” Kaiba responded with a deep, strangely rattling exhale. “Of course.” 

Suddenly, Jounouchi found himself flung down, Kaiba moving like a whip crack to manhandle him across the couch. Hot streaks of surprised arousal flashed through Jounouchi as his eyes flew open, just catching a glimpse of Eriko's letter spiralling to the floor in his periphery. The rest of his vision was taken up by the sight of Kaiba, an emperor carved in marble with eyes of knife-sharp steel, looking down on his subject from the pedestal of his thighs. 

"For the second time in your life, you make a salient point," Kaiba said in that scathing, businesslike tone that always made a shameful heat flare across Jounouchi's body. "Let's 'fucking get to it,' then."

Long, elegant, beautiful fingers clawed at Jounouchi's jeans, and his hips jerked on reflex at the feeling of cold points against his own fever hot skin, one hand sliding up his stomach and the other between his tingling thighs, unrelentingly firm but never pressing in; exactly how he liked. It was unfair, so unfair, that Kaiba could do so little and have his head spinning. That Kaiba could talk down to him, meaning every derisive word he so eloquently growled, and all Jounouchi could do was gasp and squirm in his stone palms like a beetle stuck on its back.

Kaiba looked down on him from on high, gleaming and dispassionate, upper lip curling. "Nothing to say, Jounouchi?" 

" _Fuck,"_ Jounouchi moaned, grabbing Kaiba’s jaw again and pulling him down for another kiss, worse than the first; bruising, biting his lips, horrible and breathless and the only answer Jounouchi could give. Burying his hands in that chestnut hair, he held Kaiba down, feeling his heart beating against his ribcage and wanting it closer. The weight of him was blistering hot and heavy, pressing the air out of Jounouchi's lungs, and Jounouchi remembered reading somewhere about that method of execution: where the accused would be tied down and have heavy stones put on their chest, more and more, slowly, so slowly, until the weight crushed their air out of their lungs. 

Head swimming, Jounouchi fisted his hands in Kaiba's hair, and held him down tighter. 

It was Kaiba who pulled away first with a wet smack. "Is this what you want?" he panted, holding himself up on one forearm. 

Jounouchi nodded frantically. He wanted to get fucked so hard he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe—that he'd dissolve into the lining of Kaiba's stupid, fancy, cream coloured couch with claw marks on the legs, and stay there. He'd become that furniture, that resting place. Maybe Kaiba would nap on him sometimes. Maybe that would be enough. 

"Fine,” Kaiba hissed, eyes a shining, gleaming blue, so _blue,_ his fingers making Jounouchi feel like he was going to shake out of his skin. “ _Good_. I like you better when you _shut u—_ " 

Then, halfway through the word, Kaiba jerked back, chest seizing, and coughed violently into his hand. 

Blinking rapidly at the sudden interruption, trying to process what had just happened Jounouchi squirmed at the sudden stop as Kaiba slowly retreated back. "...Man… you okay?" he asked weakly.

"I'm—I'm fine," Kaiba responded dazedly, blinking rapidly at his own palm. "I'm fine, it's just a—" 

He cut himself off, yanking his already soaked other hand out of Jounouchi's pants for another cough that seemed to reverberate through his whole frame. 

"—Just a cough," he finished hoarsely, clutching his hands over his mouth. 

The dark, sunken eyes, the tiredness, the strain across Kaiba's posture. Jounouchi groaned aloud. 'Just a long week' his ass. "Fucking hell, Kaiba. You _are_ sick, aren't you?" 

Mentally, Jounouchi smacked himself for letting them go this far. Hindsight was 20/20, he supposed, but man had Kaiba been drinking a ton of water when he'd gotten back from his trip. He looked like the world’s skinniest panda. Damn, Jounouchi would make a shit detective. 

"It's a cough _._ I'm not sick," Kaiba repeated blankly even as he slowly pulled away entirely to retrieve tissues from the table, cleaning up the sticky, phlegmy mess of his hands with robotic movements. "It is... simply something minor from those damn touchy Americans."

Really, the dumbass could be on his deathbed and still claim he was fine. Jounouchi raised his own eyebrow for once, feeling no guilt at all for stealing Kaiba’s signature move. “So you thought you’d get touchy with me? Dunno who else you’ve been hooking up with, but _this_ guy isn’t a huge fan of getting coughed on when he’s tryna’ get off,” Jounouchi said, unable to stop a lip twitch at the irony. "'Cause that's just _ew_. You make me sick. Ha, get it?"

Kaiba’s scowl was even more threatening than usual when he had eye bags to rival L, but the added deathly terror was countered by the tissues clutched tightly in one white-knuckled hand. “You’re usually more adventurous,” he muttered with a grimace. 

“Even I’ve got limits.” Jounouchi leaned over, using one hand to brush Kaiba’s bangs aside and placed the back of the other to his forehead. Kaiba jerked at the action, almost cross-eyed, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly. “You don’t feel feverish, at least," Jounouchi decided. "S’probably nothing serious.”

“Is what I _said_ ,” Kaiba hissed, still focused on Jounouchi's hand with his blue eyes comically wide. 

Jounouchi threw his hands up in surrender before zipping up his jeans, mood effectively killed. Better that they stopped here anyway—the hell had he been thinking? He had his own cough to worry about Kaiba noticing. Ugh. He’d always been shit at thinking with Kaiba around. “Okay, touchy! Have another butt-peach. Might help with the throat.”

"You'd do well to remember I'm the doctor here," Kaiba said resentfully, but he still took the fourth peach, hunching and holding it carefully in its basket to bring to his mouth and bite, like a great, deathly mouse. Jounouchi had the horrible urge to pet his hair. 

"Yeah, well I've actually worked as a hospital assistant," Jounouchi countered. "You're not the first grump I've supervised eating jelly."

Kaiba chewed said jelly carefully. "You should finish your drink," he instructed in a low voice, nodding towards Jounouchi's still near-full glass of sake. 

That sounded like a fun idea. It sounded so fun in fact, so practical, that Jounouchi couldn’t do it. “Nah. Not really in a drinking mood. ‘Sides, you need some water, I'll go grab you some.”

Collecting his glass was only the work of a moment, but Jounouchi didn't rush the task of taking it to the kitchen. He gave the sake a long, long look before swiftly dumping it in the sink, refilling the glass with cold water, the hollow sloshing echoing around the kitchen accompanied by more coughing from behind him. When he came back out, Kaiba was just finishing his peach. Setting the water down in front of him, Jounouchi couldn't help but watch his throat bob when he swallowed. 

"You'll be leaving, then," Kaiba said, giving the empty paper in his hand a venomous scowl as if he blamed it for his misery.

"Oh, don't mope, rich-boy," Jounouchi said with as much brightness as he could muster, clapping Kaiba on the shoulder before heading to his shoes. "You can fuck me senseless next week!" 

"My response," Kaiba said suddenly. 

Jounouchi paused on his way to the door. "... Huh?" 

"Eriko. You have to take my response," Kaiba said decisively, swiftly moving to rummage through a sideboard and retrieve a pen and paper. “I will write it now and you will stay until I am done.”

Watching, immobile, as Kaiba settled back down at the table in a hunch, absentmindedly twirling the pen in his fingers before beginning to write, Jounouchi's heart thrummed with warmth and fury and guilt. A heavy pulsing of light dripped through his ribs like broken yolk as Kaiba scratched at the paper, cascading all down his chest and leaving sticky, glowing trails in its wake. Feeling them trickle down, Jounouchi mused that he'd never be able to look at Kaiba again without remembering what it was like to kiss him. To touch him. Feel the pulse under his skin, the knobs of his spine, that little black hair that grew stubbornly from his shoulder. Without knowing that he hated being sweaty so he kept his air conditioning too high, that he ate pizza with cutlery, that he baby-talked to his cat in a voice like warm fizz when he thought no one could hear him; that he insisted on personally helping Yuugi through tech problems and responded to letters from people he'd never met, but he'd never talk to Jounouchi like that.

"Okay. I'll make you tea then," Jounouchi decided. "Ginger."

"I want _nothing_ from you," Kaiba said with a sudden conviction, before erupting into an explosive bout of coughing. At least he'd managed to conjure a handkerchief from somewhere this time. 

When it was over, Kaiba shook his head with a disgusted, phlegmy groan. "Ginger," he assented weakly. "There's some pre-ground in—" 

"I know. Honey? Lemon? Yuzu?"

"Just yuzu."

"Got it."

Reentering the kitchen, Jounouchi extracted the pot of ginger from its spot in the second top cupboard on the left of the stove, and a still-green yuzu from the bowl next to the sink. He added the ground root to the infuser in the teapot, grated the fruit rind into it too. Added already boiled water from the warmer. Retrieved a mug from the cupboard (the one with crayon style planets and stars and the words _Best Mom in the Universe_ written on it). Sliced the fruit in half over the wooden cutting board. Squeezed what little juice there was into the pot. Splashed cold water from the tap on his face while he let the tea steep. 

Jounouchi let out a deep, shaking breath as he dragged his wet fingers down his face. It was a little weird, in all honesty. Was this really what love felt like? Jounouchi had thought he needed to know Kaiba better for that, to spend time with him on days that weren't Sundays in places that weren't his apartment. He had thought _hungry_ was a better word for how he felt—hungry and burning and maybe a little bit obsessed. Was this how his old man had felt? Like if his mother, the woman who'd abandoned them both without so much as a single backwards glance, came back and asked him to chop off a limb, he'd rage and he'd spit but he'd still ask, 'which one?' But maybe that was just what being in love felt like. 

The petals didn't leave room for argument, though. Love. Who'd have thought. 

And Kaiba didn't love him. Didn't even like him. The thought wrapped around Jounouchi's bones as he stood at the counter, squeezing and splintering, covering him like a shroud as he watched the tea steep. But as heavy as the weight was, it was a comforting blanket too. Jounouchi was upset, and angry—fucking furious, actually—but he knew he didn't have any right to be. 

It was a good thing, really—it was what had allowed Jounouchi to suggest the whole arrangement in the first place. When Kaiba cared about people, it was with _everything_ he had. That Kaiba didn't care about him hurt, it hurt to hell, but it meant Jounouchi couldn't hurt him. It meant that when Jounouchi stopped loving him, Kaiba would still be fine. Kaiba would never have to cry because of him, cough up flowers because of him, cough and choke and self-destruct because of _him_. Jounouchi could not be responsible for that—because that's what having someone be in love with you was. A responsibility. If his parents had taught him anything, that was it. 

And Jounouchi would be fine. He could take a hit; he could take any kick, any slap, any punch thrown at him; even if he needed concealer for the black eye and painkillers for the cracked ribs.

But he couldn't take _that_. 

Hearing a gruff clearing of a throat behind him, Jounouchi poured out one mug of tea. 

"That was quick. Barely had time to make your health potion," he said as Kaiba exchanged a clean, unmarked envelope for the mug on the counter and drank. Ginger and yuzo but no honey. Gross. 

"You've been back here for twenty minutes," Kaiba informed him, briefly examining the depths of his tea. "This is very strong."

"Oh shit, really?" Jounouchi poured himself a small taste test, and on trying it, immediately had to spit it out into the sink. " _Yeugch!_ _Pleugh!_ Fuck, that's— _disgusting_ — _fuck!"_ He stood making faces over the sink, shuddering with his whole body to try and shake the awful tang away. "Ugh, sorry, must've spaced out. Happens sometimes." 

Kaiba simply took another sip. "I've noticed," he agreed in a low tone, but didn’t seem at all bothered by the drink. 

"How are you…" Jounouchi gaped, then shook his head. "God, you're weird. Don't think I didn't notice the stacks of gas station hot pickles in the fridge either. Are your tastebuds completely dead or something?" 

"Just like the rest of me," Kaiba deadpanned, taking another sip. 

Rolling his eyes, Jounouchi picked up the new envelope. "Including your sense of humour." He flicked the paper with his index. "Well. I'll be off. Uh." He floundered while Kaiba stared at the window rather than through it with dull, woozy eyes. "Anything else you wanted?" 

Kaiba's gaze narrowed, suddenly focusing on Jounouchi and glinting like the edge of a blade. "I don't believe you were here for _friendly chit-chat_ ," he said sharply, before coughing hard enough he had to put his mug down. 

Right. Probably not a good idea to overstay his welcome in the home of a grumpy, sickness-cockblocked Kaiba. "Okay. Get well soon then, and all that jazz," Jounouchi said, patting him hesitantly on the shoulder. He strained with the desire to kiss him—not on the mouth, but on the cheek, or the forehead—but didn't, in the end. 

So Jounouchi turned on his heel and marched to the entryway. After pulling on his shoes, he couldn't resist the urge to look back. Kaiba still stood in the kitchen, face turned to the window. The orange of the sunset made him glow around the edges as he drank that awful fuck up of a tea only he could tolerate, and Jounouchi thought maybe this _was_ what love felt like. 

He must've felt Jounouchi's gaze, because he too turned his head to face him with those hardened steel eyes. 

"See you next week," Jounouchi called. 

If anything, Kaiba's eyes became even sharper before he jerked back to the window without a word, so Jounouchi sighed, turned the handle, and left. Heading down and out into the humid summer night, he smiled faintly at the swollen clouds on the horizon, purple like bruising. Maybe they'd get a storm, finally. 

Getting to the station just in time for his train, Jounouchi boarded an almost packed carriage. Rocking with the motions, he leaned his forehead against a metal pole and finally cried; quiet but heaving, messy sobs that shook his chest. An elderly man silently offered him some tissues, and Jounouchi quietly thanked him, mopping his cheeks and blowing his nose until he reached his flat and the thin paper had turned to a stringy mess. Unlocking the door into a mess of laundry and knick knacks and other people's belongings, Jounouchi placed Kaiba's letter next to Shoot so he wouldn't lose it and went through his evening motions with his eyes still burning but dry. 

At around midnight, curling himself up in his nest of blankets and plush toys, Jounouchi took a moment to be selfishly angry about the whole thing. Because it wasn't like Kaiba was incapable of affection, or passion, or love. Quite the opposite. Jounouchi had seen the proof of all of them: in his friendship with Yuugi, his devotion to his work and his dueling, his ferocious protection of his brother when they were young. In the petals, blue and white and flecked with blood, that he'd stolen with trembling hands and kept in a jar for thirteen years. 

No, Kaiba was very capable of feeling, Jounouchi knew. Reaching beneath the couch, he brought out the jar of lotus petals. Touching it once to his lips, he tucked it under his chin, and failed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O
> 
> as always, my tumblr is dominocity and my twitter is kaiba_txt


	9. An Entire Theory of the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "By means of microscopic observation and astronomical projection, the lotus flower can become the foundation for an entire theory of the universe, and an agent whereby we may perceive the Truth."
> 
> Yukio Mishima, _The Priest of Shiga Temple and His Love,_ translated by Ivan Morris (punctuation added by me)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Jounouchi finds some flowers. 

For a small, exposed, sprawling of rubble in the middle of the ocean, the air of Alcatraz Island was disturbingly still. 

It was an eerie, barren, wreckage of a place. The only splotch of land around for miles, Alcatraz was cultivated to grow on the sea's surface like a spot of fuzzy mold on soft cheese, or a pimple on the rippling skin of a muscular back. The Duel Tower rose like a four-pronged spear of a lighthouse from the center, circled by a blast radius of collapsed buildings with a few scant green stains of life, and there was no movement at all. There should have been howling winds from the enveloping ocean, flooding through twisted metal and shattered concrete; sprays of foam licking at the edges, dampening the debris of the former military base; flies, midges, creepy crawlies, nesting gulls and scuttling crabs resettling their land. And maybe there were, further out from where the Blimp landed. But for Jounouchi, the place was—not frozen, exactly. Just motionless. Not in the way a rock, or a tree, or a corpse is motionless, but motionless in the way a hand hovering over a red button is motionless. The only breeze was the air conditioning in the blimp.

Kaiba had clearly done a number on the place. When they'd first arrived, Jounouchi hadn't been able to resist running a fingertip over the zig-zag lines of his sharp-edged rubble. When blood had seeped from the resulting cut, Honda had cuffed him round the head before dragging him off to find sanitizer and a bandaid. 

There was just under an hour before the final duel—before, for better or worse, the Yuugi that wasn't Yuugi faced down the Marik that wasn't Marik—and Shizuka _still_ wrangled Jounouchi into having a check in with the doctor. Stupid great big golden chicken thing, putting him in a coma ( _yes_ , a _coma_ , so what if it didn't last a day, it counted). Jounouchi really didn't need to have any more poking and prodding at him in his opinion. Sure, he'd had a _bit_ of a panic attack when he'd woken up, but that was nothing to do with the coma or anything. He'd been fine after Honda had reassured him that no one had taken his pants off or said anything about his scars. Well, not _fine_ fine, but better. 

Still, it was his baby sister asking, and Jounouchi would begrudgingly stomp along the sea-green halls of the Battle Blimp to the medical room if it made her feel better. Less than an hour. Not-Yuugi would win, he was sure of it. He had to be. 

Reaching his destination, Jounouchi had his hand on the dull white door when the sound of voices within stopped him in his tracks. The tones were hushed and muffled, but even through the barrier Jounouchi could recognise Kaiba's nasal growl, interrupted by fits of coughing. It took a few moments for Jounouchi to realise he was arguing with the doctor. This in itself wasn't strange, Kaiba being prone to arguing with anyone who came within his aggro-radius. No, what unsettled Jounouchi was the fact that he seemed to be trying to be quiet. Jounouchi could think of a lot of words to describe Kaiba—like, a _lot_ —and subtle wasn't one of them. Hesitating, he stood stock still with his palm still on the door, while the arguing broke into more coughing and then silence. 

Then, just as Jounouchi gave in to curiosity and began to press an ear to the door, he suddenly found himself violently flung into the opposite wall as Kaiba stormed out.

"The hell?!" Bristling and picking himself back up, rubbing his smarting shoulder, Jounouchi instinctively revved up for a fight. "The fuck is your problem?!" he shouted down the hall, brandishing a fist. "Oi! Don't ignore me! Bastard!" 

But striding down the corridor on those absurd stalk-legs, long coat flapping behind him, Kaiba ignored him completely. It didn't seem like he'd even _noticed_ slamming Jounouchi into a damn wall. Fucking asshole; who did he think he was? 

Oh, right. That's who. Jounouchi flipped off the the spot where he'd last seen Seto fucking Kaiba. 

Ugh, _whatever_. Kaiba didn't exactly have the most divine of personalities in the first place, Jounouchi reminded himself. The snooty, sneering, self-obsessed jerk had his nose stuck so high in the air it was a miracle he could tell where he was going at all. It wasn't personal. He was probably just mad he’d apparently caught the sniffles—and at the levels of arcane his precious tournament had descended to, although Jounouchi couldn’t really blame him for that. As much as he acted unfazed, Jounouchi was spending a lot of his time freaking the fuck out. He just had a different way of dealing with it—namely, vocal acceptance instead of vocal denial—but if Jounouchi had to hear one more _magic isn’t real you idiots_ comment, he was going to kill Kaiba himself. 

Taking a few long breaths to calm down (in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, just the way Anzu had shown him), Jounouchi forced himself to unclench his fists. No, no, he didn't want to fight Kaiba. Not anymore. He still thought about punching him (that fantasy probably wouldn't go away any time soon), but not _fighting_. That whole virtual world mess, still fresh in the mind, had twisted Jounouchi's insides too much for that. 

(With anyone else, with Honda, or Yuugi, or Anzu, Jounouchi would give them a hug, or squeeze their hand, or just rest his palm on their shoulder. Jounouchi wondered what Kaiba's shoulder felt like.)

It was just—Kaiba was so _frustrating._ And it wasn't personal, but it _was._ Jounouchi had as much right to be there as the rest of them—he'd gotten to top four, basically beaten Not-Marik, and all without one of their fancy-schmancy God cards, so _there_ —and _still_ Kaiba didn’t even deign to _look_ at him if Jounouchi wasn't challenging him to a duel, or just getting right in his face and making him. And even then, all Jounouchi got was insults, those pale, long-fingered hands waving him off like he was just some nobody. Just some mongrel dog who'd wandered in off the street. 

Even Jounouchi wasn't stupid enough to think they'd ever be friends, but was it really too much to ask? For a compliment, for a nod; a falter, a pause, a single flick of those deep blue eyes; a fucking punch to the face for daring to be in his presence; just _something._ Anything. Anything at all. 

Sighing, Jounouchi shook himself and pulled his head up before peeking his head into the room. The doctor was washing his hands when he knocked on the doorframe to announce his arrival. 

Apparently what the doctor would really like to do were various scans that he didn't have the equipment for on the blimp, so Jounouchi was just made to follow the man's finger with his eyes (again), had his blood pressure tested (again), and tried not to kick his feet around too much as his blood was stolen with a syringe (again). He was distracted the whole time by the fact that the chair was still warm from Kaiba’s residual butt heat, as if Kaiba was a real human being with flesh and skin and a pulse and all that. An android with a cold—ha! Wasn't technology a wonder. The floor was weirdly slippery too, and Jounouchi couldn't stop squeaking his sneakers on it, grinning sheepishly when it earned him an irritated look. 

When the doctor dismissed him and disappeared with more blood than could possibly be necessary, Jounouchi immediately ripped the cotton wool bud from his arm. The tape was way worse than the needles themselves. Going to toss the little thing in the trash, Jounouchi pressed his foot to the pedal, and—

—the lid fell down again with a soft thump when Jounouchi jumped back with a hot, horrific jolt in his chest; like someone had reached into his ribcage, sank sharp-nailed fingers into his heart, and yanked. 

For a moment, Jounouchi just stood there, heart high and lurching in his chest. Then, cautiously, he stepped forward and slowly pressed his foot down again. 

There they still sat, motionless like a hand over a red button. Flowers. 

Well, petals really. They were too torn up to be flowers anymore. Kneeling down, pulling the lid fully open, Jounouchi gaped at the mess. In horrified fascination, he gingerly extracted a single tissue and tried to shake it out. Petals, petals, rumpled and sticky with blood and mucus, a watercolour blue with white at the root, like the dragon Kaiba loved so much. That was what the coughing fit was. Kaiba must've coughed them up. 

One petal stuck to Jounouchi's hand as he dropped the towel back in the trash. Sitting back on the linoleum floor, his mind reeled as he plucked the thing from his palm and toyed with it, feeling the smooth texture, the way it slid and folded under his fingers, still damp. Trying to clean the little thing with a fingernail, Jounouchi only vaguely recognised he was getting Kaiba’s phlegm and blood on his hands. It didn’t seem to matter how disgusting that was. Kaiba must've coughed them up. Kaiba. 

_Kaiba_.

Staring at the single petal, motionless, Jounouchi thought of his old man back home, jaded and angry and swiping at anyone who came near, drowning himself in booze to try and get the constant taste of vegetation from his mouth.

Jounouchi ran. There was still time, time before the final duel, hopefully time before the doctor came back, and definitely time to pull Kaiba’s head out of his ass. Jounouchi made it to the room he and Yuugi had been sharing and dove for his rucksack, frantically rummaging until he found a battered carton of cigarettes. It still had a few left, and Jounouchi grumbled as he dumped them out onto the floor. He could regret it in a craving-induced haze later. Panting as he ran back, Jounouchi barely noticed slamming straight into Otogi, his friend’s annoyed yelling garbled as if through the layers upon layers of wind that formed a typhoon. 

Skidding back into the room, Jounouchi’s knees screeched in sharp complaint as he dropped down on one knee, back in front of the trash. Kaiba wouldn’t exactly welcome Jounouchi’s worry, or his support, or even just acknowledgement. He would probably deny anything was wrong at all, so Jounouchi needed proof. Shaking out the damp tissues and dropping them on the floor, Jounouchi scooped filthy petals into his hand and packed them safely into the carton. So what if Kaiba wouldn't want his concern? He was going to get it anyway. Serve him right for contracting such a dumb disease; for doing something so stupid, so overwhelmingly _stupid_ , as loving someone who didn't love him back. 

Jounouchi wondered who it was. He had a theory. He just had to do a little research. 

After scooping as much as he could into his little carton, wiping his filthy hands on the inside of his shirt, Jounouchi was panting when he finally made it to the top of the duel tower just in time to see Kaiba toss Not-Yuugi a card, before the duel started and the sky around them vanished into a howling purple-black void. There wasn’t time to drag Kaiba off to—interrogate him? Yell at him? Hold him and tell him it was all going to be alright? Jounouchi's head was a thudding whirl of thoughts torn off before they could be completed. He didn’t know what he was going to do, only that he had to do it. 

Maybe he’d challenge Kaiba to another duel, he thought hysterically as he watched his best friend's limbs dissolve into nothing. Like his battle for bronze idea—when Kaiba had lost to Not-Yuugi again and been so fucking sore about it, foaming at the mouth at all things friendship, that the only thing Jounouchi could think of to cheer him up was challenge him himself. Kaiba could say he didn't duel for fun all he liked, but that big stupid smirk he got whenever he had Jounouchi floundering was more than enough to tell him for the liar he was. 

(Jounouchi had still given his all, obviously, but c'mon, it was _Kaiba_. He hadn't expected to win, and he really didn’t care about who got third place. Well, he did. But only a tiny bit.) 

But Jounouchi never got the chance to figure out what it was he needed to do. Two hours later, he was so lost in the overwhelming relief of his best friend not being dead, and Mai not being dead, and Ryou, and the incredulous disbelief at Kaiba’s announcement that he was going to _blow up the fucking island,_ that he completely forgot about the flowers in his pocket until it was time to go and Kaiba and Mokuba were nowhere to be seen. "Pain in the ass," he muttered to himself as the group set off to look for them, one hand touching the box in his back pocket, telling himself not to worry. The bastard had probably used his own escape route. A long tunnel under the ocean or something. Yeah. Something like that. 

Then he was running again, entire group with him, shouting at the top of his lungs for the two idiots to get their stupid asses out of hiding already, because Kaiba was going to _blow up_ _the fucking_ _island_ and the Blimp wasn't working and no one had any clue where he was. And Jounouchi _knew_ how miserable Kaiba must be, how angry and lonely, but if they spent any longer searching for him then they were going to die too. 

Heart ricocheting around his ribcage, Jounouchi watched from the helicopter as a few gulls abandoned Alcatraz, great fissures cracking across the small island as the Duel Tower was rocked by explosions, crumpling under its own weight. Then that stupid fucking dragon jet flew out of the smoke, and Jounouchi wasted no time running to the helicopter cockpit to scream at that _bastard_ _moron_ down the radio. 

Grabbing the box microphone from the dashboard, Jounouchi ignored the _hey!_ he got from one of the pilots. "Oi, Kaiba! It's _your_ fault we almost went down with that island!" he screeched even as relief flooded his body. For a second, he'd really thought—well, Kaiba had always called him stupid. "Then you have the nerve to _laugh?!_ " 

The only response Jounouchi got from the bastard was an amused snort. The utter _nerve_. 

"See, in order to build KaibaLands all over the world, me and my brother are going to America!" Mokuba chirped happily, his already scratchy voice made even worse by the comm. 

"KaibaLands… all over the world?" Jounouchi mumbled, caught off guard. 

"I'll invite you all one of these days," the man himself drawled in that low, gravelly tone. 

"Kaiba…" Squinting out the window, the Blue-Eyes jet was just close enough for Jounouchi to make out Kaiba in the pilot's seat. Glancing between the two pilots keeping their eyes on him, Anzu now standing behind him too, he shifted uncomfortably, hyper aware of the weight in his back pocket.

Jounouchi held the radio close enough that his lips touched it. "What about Yuugi?" he said in a hushed voice, watching through the glass. 

"He knows our battle is not over," Kaiba's distorted voice came over the radio, proud and confident as ever. 

"Nono, I mean," Jounouchi hurried, trying to hide from the curious eyes on all sides. "The… other thing." 

There was a pause. "He was included in the 'all', deadbeat," Kaiba said, just sounding mildly amused. "You know what 'all' means, yes? Really, I wonder that you're not concerned for your own inclusion. You might hurt yourself trying to understand the children's level reading on the park signs."

Mouth dropping open, Jounouchi forgot all about playing nice. " _Hey!"_ he hissed in a whisper into the radio. "You know _damn_ well—" 

"Setoooo, quit getting distracted, let's goooo," Mokuba's prepubescent whine interrupted him. "I need to _peeeeeee_."

" _What!_ " Jounouchi heard Kaiba groan. "Mokie, I told you to go earlier!" 

"I didn't need to then…" 

There was the sound of Kaiba sighing. "Very well," he said, adopting that stern, business-like tone he sometimes used. "Until we meet again, deadbe—" 

"Kaiba _wait—!"_

"To America! Depart!" 

And then there was a great burst from the jet, fire thundering from its draconic underbelly. The craft rocketed forward, looped around, and was gone. Just like that. 

Staring after it for a second, Jounouchi slowly put the radio back on the dashboard, and returned to the main cabin to find nearly everyone looking like something was very funny. 

"Man, I hope they got an empty bottle in there or something," Honda worried. 

Blinking for a moment, Jounouchi laughed awkwardly. "Ha. Yeah," he agreed, scratching the back of his neck. "You guys heard all that?" 

"Yup," Mai told him with a smirk. "Worried he wouldn't let short-stuff on the rides, huh? You boys are so sweet. I guess even Kaiba isn't that petty." 

Jounouchi shrugged robotically as he sat himself down next to Yuugi. "I guess…" 

So the Kaibas flew off to America, and Jounouchi was taken home with a cigarette carton stuffed with flowers that weren’t his. His fingers drummed frantically on his leg the whole way home. The journey back was a great deal less comfortable than the one out with fourteen people crammed in the small helicopter cabin, but at least there was no shortage of conversation, although Jounouchi found himself staying on the edges for once, and only partially due to embarrassment after accidentally calling Isis "your excellency". At least she thought it was funny. 

When they finally reached dry land again, Jounouchi could've kissed the tarmac of Domino City docks. He could've gone for a smoke too, but his cigarettes, left lying on the blimp floor when he'd only had time to grab his bag, had gone up in flames with the island. Now all he had was a pack of petals. If they were the kind he thought they were, he guessed chewing them would have _some_ effect, but that just felt wrong. 

When everyone began heading off in different directions, Jounouchi stayed looking out at the sun setting over the ocean for a moment. 

"What a trip. Man, I'm pooped," Honda said, elbowing him in the side and yawning. "S'getting late too. Wanna stay at mine tonight?" 

Honda's place was on the other side of town, and would take them about an hour to reach on public transit. Jounouchi's was pretty near the docks they were already at, and would take ten minutes. 

"You sure?" Jounouchi asked with tired eyes. "I don't wanna dump myself on your folks like that…" 

"Eh, they wont mind," Honda assured him as they began to walk back into town. "It's Blankey you gotta worry about."

"Ugh, that dog," Jounouchi huffed with an exaggerated frown. "Why's she hate my shoes so much…"

Honda gave it some thought, stroking an imaginary beard. "Maybe if you didn't stink them up with your stanky feet she'd be less interested?" he suggested. "See, there are these things called 'socks'—" 

"Now you're just making shit up."

"You should try them some time."

"I don't like my toes restricted!" 

Honda had been right. Both his parents welcomed Jounouchi into their home with only a moment's hesitation like they always did, Blankey leaping up to greet Honda by licking his face all over. There was dinner, during which Honda and Jounouchi were grilled on their trip and neither had the foresight to lie, which sent Mr. Honda into chuckles as Mrs. grew more and more frustrated with their tall tales, Honda's younger sister grouching at the entire ordeal of family dinner. 

After eating, Jounouchi caught a glimpse of the mom and dad snuggling down under the same blanket to watch something on TV together, before he turned away and headed to his friend's room to sleep. 

When he left the next day, Jounouchi wound his way home slowly. He opened his front door as quietly as possible onto a foul stench that hit the nose like pool water hits a diver. The place was a stinking mess of trash and half eaten, half vomited food, smears of blood and flowers on the floor and long since seeped into the old, particularly collapsed couch.

At least his old man wasn't home. Jounouchi headed straight for his room and shut the door behind him. 

Jounouchi wasn't sure what to do with the petals, now Kaiba was so far away with no indication of when he'd return. At first he figured he’d keep them until he could see Kaiba again, so he washed them the best he could, carefully setting each clean petal out on a few sheets of chemistry homework he was never going to do anyway. They sat in neat little rice paddy rows along his dirty windowsill, drying in what sunlight managed to filter through the grime on the glass, while Jounouchi lay on his stomach in his futon, flicking through the books he'd managed to sneak from his old man. 

When he heard his dad stumble home, Jounouchi tensed, readying to hide the illicit materials or pretend they were something else. The old man yelled for him a few times between wheezing coughs, and Jounouchi didn't move for the sound of footsteps on the creaking floor outside his door, didn't breathe out until he'd heard the familiar, telling thump of a body hitting the couch. He turned back to his reading with a heavy squint in the darkening room, moving as quietly as possible to dig out his torch to read under the covers. It was getting dark, but he didn't want to turn the light on. 

It was in a magazine special on flowering aquatic plants that Jounouchi found what he was looking for: the blue lotus, also known as the Egyptian blue lotus; scientific name, _Nymphaea caerulea;_ a species of water lily, typically with blue, white-blue, or pale purple petals, known for having psychoactive properties and for being depicted in Ancient Egyptian art, in scenes of revelry and rites. There were glossy pictures of the flowers themselves, their undamaged petals almost sharp looking, and a single image of an illustration from the book of the dead: a funeral ceremony, the mummy at the center of the scene with a lotus flower on its head. According to the book, the flower appeared to bloom during the day and retract into the water at night, and was therefore associated with the sun; with life, death, and rebirth.

Shoving the magazine away from him, Jounouchi flopped over onto his back and stared at the cracked ceiling through the gloom. There was only one person that could be about. Not like Kaiba was subtle about it. Hell, Jounouchi was mad at himself for not spotting it a mile off. Mad at Not-Yuugi too. _He'd_ caused this, Jounouchi thought with a dull fury, flinching on reflex at the sound of a bottle shattering in the next room. This was _his_ fault. If someone loved you, you had to love them back. And you had to stay in love with them. You _had_ to.

(Jounouchi would _never_ let _that_ happen to anyone because of him. Especially not Kaiba.)

(Not that there was any risk of _that._ Fat chance. Kaiba didn't even look at him.)

So Jounouchi tucked the books back behind his closet, and spent the night staring at the ceiling, arms folded, a captured wind howling through his skull. 

(Jounouchi wondered what it would be like, to have all of that intensity focused on _him._ )

(He shuddered.)

When morning came, he put the dried petals in a spare jar, and screwed the lid on tight. 

Days passed. Then weeks. Months. Jounouchi couldn't quite get the faint bloodstains off the inside of his shirt where he'd wiped his hands, so he started only wearing it to bed. The whole orichalcos ordeal happened, and Jounouchi was whisked off to America himself with the rest of the group. He didn’t have the energy to kick himself for not bringing the jar when _of course_ they ran into Kaiba there, not with Mai running off and apparently joining a fucking soul-stealing cult to worry about. Then there was said soul-stealing cult and everything. The most chance Jounouchi had to chat with Kaiba was when he woke up floating in a weird bubble _thing_ in a void, Kaiba in his own bubble floating near him, and they had both been a little preoccupied then. 

And Kaiba seemed fine anyway. When the whole mess was over, everyone’s souls back in their bodies, and they could kick back and relax for a tournament where the stakes were a little lower than the fate of the planet, Kaiba still kept his distance. But as far as Jounouchi could tell, there was no telltale coughing, and although Yuugi and Not-Yuugi were still the only people he really talked to, he wasn’t hounding Not-Yuugi for anything. Jounouchi still had to yell at him for acknowledgement, which for some reason made all his 'friends' laugh and roll their eyes at him (at one point, Anzu suggested he try be the one playing it cool for once—just what the hell was _that_ supposed to mean? Jounouchi was totally cool!), but Kaiba was downright friendly to the group by his standards. Panic over, Jounouchi felt stupid for worrying in the first place. 

He felt even stupider when he couldn’t throw the damn jar out. 

The thing moved around his room, from the windowsill, to the top of his bedside table, to his sock drawer. It spent a few years in the back of his closet. It wasn’t like he _planned_ on keeping the thing; the petals weren’t his, they weren’t for him; he should’ve tossed them in the trash and put the whole event behind him. But he couldn’t. He just _couldn’t_. It felt wrong, to throw away something like that. Even worse than stealing them in the first place. 

It was just—Kaiba was so much larger than life. So much smarter than him, so much stronger. He’d destroyed and rebuilt himself, turned a weapons empire into a company that made entertainment for children, and he'd done it all to make sure his little brother never had to go wanting for anything. Jounouchi had only managed to pay his sister’s medical bills with Yuugi’s help. 

Kaiba was just so much _better_ than him, and they both knew it. Sometimes it made Jounouchi want to punch him. To split and bloody his own knuckles smashing the smooth swoop down of his nose, to break his own skin on the symmetry of those perfect, sneering teeth. Other times it made him want to, to—to kneel at Kaiba’s feet, those pale, elegant fingers clenching in Jounouchi's hair; cock down his throat and choking him, soothing the itch he got in his throat whenever he thought about such things; long legs over his shoulders to keep him there and not let go. Rarely, very rarely, it made Jounouchi want to kiss his wrists, just over where his pulse must be. 

Most of the time, he just wanted Kaiba to look at him.

So whether it was sentiment, or something like it, every time Jounouchi went to throw the petals out he ended up changing his mind. They weren't his, but he couldn't just toss them like that. They meant something. 

The years piled on top of each other like old toys and nicknacks tossed into the corner of a room, the stuff you'll never use or throw away, too precious and useless to become anything but coated in dust. Jounouchi mostly forgot about the little jar, lost in the rubble. There were so many other things to think about, like rent, like trying to get a job that would let him pay back all the money his dad lost drinking and gambling, like needing qualifications and more money to make money. Like figuring out what the fuck he was supposed to do about everything when the old man’s liver finally gave up. 

(Jounouchi didn't let his mother anywhere near the meagre commemoration.) 

(Her office sent a bouquet.)

Jounouchi found the jar again while he was finally gathering his things for moving out, and after a second’s consideration it was flung into a _keep_ box before Honda, helping him pack, could walk in and ask what it was. It stayed with him from apartment to apartment, living in boxes and drawers until eventually finding a home under the pillow end of his couch-bed where he laid his head every night. Sometimes Yuugi would mention Kaiba in passing, or he’d see an advert for some KaibaCorp product; see some photo online of Kaiba doing some conference or promoting some tournament; or paparazzi'd, off-guard and softer for it, at some coffee shop or street corner, and his mind would wander to the flowers still under his bed, sealed tight and untouched for thirteen years. 

But Jounouchi rarely saw the man himself, didn’t see him at all for years—until that day in March, in a fucking 7-Eleven of all places. Jounouchi _knew_ he’d never had the best self-control, _knew_ he had a tendency to let his mouth run ahead of his brain—if his brain was even running at all—but that knowledge was nothing to Kaiba standing in front of him again. Kaiba, with his deep, rumbling voice and tempered steel eyes. Kaiba, his hands with their long fingers, pale and elegant like a ghost gum tree. 

Kaiba, actually looking at him for even the briefest of moments—but then, it had looked like he was going to leave. Just like that. 

So Jounouchi had done what he’d always done when he found himself floundering in front of Seto Kaiba: massively, irrevocably, fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [john mulaney voice] now we dont have time to unpack all that
> 
> updates are prob gonna slow down a lot for a bit for reasons. but hey, this is like, the perfect point to go back to the beginning and reread! if ur into it! or go listen to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ges86ayp8QfygBJy7NGAA?si=Bg0CFDu4TCGosW_JwS3UCg) or smth idk


	10. Nipping in the Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Nip in the bud_ • To stop, cease, or prevent something at the beginning or early phase, before it becomes too difficult or unmanageable.

A stout cuboid of a structure, red crosses beaming with dull menace from each corner, Shinhigashi Clinic was not a remarkable building. Smaller than Domino Prefecture General and less central than City Hospital, it somehow hovered over the relatively newly developed eastern area of the city despite being very much connected to the ground. Each wall was patterned with rectangle windows to form a perfect grid of off-white lines and glass, and over the entrance on the east side, supported by columns, rose a short but wide adjoining tower that if viewed from above would have looked like a kidney. It was, among other things, the place Jounouchi finally found a doctor who didn't send him in infinite referral circles and make him fill out endless, stupid questionnaires for years and just prescribed him the damn testosterone. The residual goodwill from this experience wrestled with Jounouchi's desire to be really anywhere else. After talking to a receptionist, Jounouchi trod warily upstairs to a section he'd never visited before. The rooms beyond the waiting area seemed to be inside the kidney. Almost exciting—Jounouchi had never been in the kidney before.

Sitting in the waiting room was still a pain in the ass, and Jounouchi's foot bounced in an unstoppable jerking motion as he slouched, pressing the tip of a biro along his forearm. His eyes flicked on a ping-pong trajectory, gaze bouncing off the windows and the posters with badly drawn cartoon doctors and patients, only to land on the kanji painted next to the main door: _Respiratory + Hanahaki Unit._ The latter characters stood bolder, newer than the rest. It was after all only recently that there had been a real push for the disease to be studied scientifically, instead of being a taboo that went untalked about as something that happened outside of ancient myth and movies. Jounouchi supposed he may well have Kaiba to thank for that, at least partially. 

The door was partially opened, and a middle aged man in a shirt, tie, and white coat stood in the gap. Jounouchi straightened up on reflex. "Kamijo?” he called. “Wakaba Kamijo?”

Jounouchi slipped back down into his slouch while a young woman stood with a nod, making her way into the bowels of the kidney. He glanced around at his fellow patients-in-waiting, wondering if any of them were in the same boat. Everyone looked around the same level of blank, glum resignation, but that was the default look of the lone waiting room inhabitant. Sighing, Jounouchi went back to adding suckers to the tentacle currently slithering along his arm. It was really time to get a new phone to fiddle with. He always worried he’d smash one of those fancy glass things in seconds, but it'd be nice to have something that didn't shit itself when he tried to make it do anything mildly intense. He could take pictures of things that didn't always come out fuzzy messes, finally play _Puzzle & Dragons _ and that dress up game Anzu kept talking about. The older Jounouchi got, the more weird looks doodling on himself drew. Ha. _Drew_. 

The door opened again just as he was adding an eye. "Katsuya Jounouchi?”

Lurching to his feet, Jounouchi shoved his pen in a pocket and sized the doctor up. She peered back through half-moon glasses balanced over a large nose. The cable knit jumper under her white coat was a bright pink. 

Jounouchi nodded stiffly. "Hey."

"I’m Dr. Rui,” she greeted. With only a small pause to take in the smudged landscape of ink from his wrist to his elbow, she turned back through the door. “If you could come with me."

Following Dr. Rui down a long, curving corridor of doors and pale yellow painted walls, Jounouchi accepted with mild disappointment that the kidney was really not much different from the rest of the building. He was shown into a large-ish office, with a sink at the back and shelves crammed with binders, all labeled with the typically sloppy kanji of the medical professional. The two computer monitors on the desk were each plastered with sticky notes around the edges, and next to the mouse stood a ceramic figure of that meerkat from _The Lion King_ wearing a hula skirt. 

“Nice digs,” Jounouchi said hesitantly, poking the little animal so it wiggled on its spring, before peering out the window closest to him. The way the kidney curved away from the main building, the view was mainly of wall and window. “You can spy on all the other docs from here.”

"I usually have other matters to attend to," responded Dr. Rui, sitting at her desk and gesturing for Jounouchi to take the patient's chair opposite. "Now, you say you’ve been experiencing hanahaki symptoms?”

Taking his seat in the unusually cushiony doctor's chair, Jounouchi barely resisted the urge to huff. Don't huff at the hand that feeds you meds and all that. "Yeah, I'd say I have," he mimicked back. "Been coughing up petals. Can't really argue with that."

Briefly narrowing her eyes, the doctor nodded, making her purple, dangly, diamond-shaped earrings jiggle. Jounouchi briefly saw himself reaching out and swatting them. “I see. I’m going to ask you a series of questions we ask all hanahaki patients. Please answer all of them to the best of your ability. Firstly, how long have you been coughing up petals?”

“Started last Saturday—not yesterday Saturday, a week ago Saturday.”

Dr. Rui jabbed at her keyboard in a flurry of clicks and clacks. “Is it regular? Or intermittent? Constant?”

“Uh, intermittent? It started off super strong, but it's gotten like, straggly, over the week.” 

The routine questions continued without fanfare. Jounouchi was able to tell Dr. Rui he’d been having sore throats for a while but couldn’t remember when they’d started, that his case was mild enough that he could keep to his usual life without much difficulty, that he was exclusively coughing, and that aside the feeling of a lump in his throat he had no swellings or recently developed pain in any other areas of his body. 

It was weird. After that first awful fit, Jounouchi was able to get the worst of the stuff out in the morning when he woke up, then he'd be mostly fine for the rest of the day, at least until he got home again. It wasn't ideal by any means, but it was manageable, with a regularity about it. Nothing like what his old man had had—with him, it had come in bouts that could last anywhere from a day to a week of constant coughing and vomiting, then a period of nothing, then it would cycle back. Both Jounouchi and his apartment floor were getting off squeaky clean in comparison. 

“The stereotypical case is of flowering in the respiratory system, but there have been cases of growths in the digestive tract and in the reproductive system,” Dr. Rui said idly as she entered his answers into her computer. "Rather unpleasant."

Jounouchi’s own digestive tract lurched with revolted nausea at the idea. Thank fuck he didn’t have to _bleed_ the fucking things. Or—or jack them out. _Yikes_ . The petals were small and flexible, but _still._

He distracted himself with the other mentioned symptoms. “And the uh, swellings?”

“There have not yet been any documented cases of growths outside of those areas, but who knows,” Dr. Rui waved a hand. “However, it appears to be a characteristic of the disease that it forms in systems where the flowers have an expulsion route, so to speak—although thankfully not the nasolacrimal duct.”

Huh. Jounouchi didn't know what a naso-whatsit duct was. Sounded like a kind of decorative molding. “‘Expulsion route’,” he repeated. “Shitting out flowers. Huh.”

Dr. Rui gave him a stern look over her glasses, earrings swaying slightly with disapproval. “I’d thank you not to use that type of language in my office,” she said with a cutting tone. “But yes, there have been multiple cases of petals being passed through the anus and the urinary tract.”

Retrieving a medical flashlight and a tongue depressor from a desk drawer, Dr. Rui continued speaking while Jounouchi continued wincing into oblivion. Shitting them wouldn’t be so bad—honestly ideal, less pain and easier clean up—but the other stuff? “It is likely that there are more cases of hanahaki in the lower digestive system than documented," Dr. Rui continued. "Given the ease of passing through that area, some may not notice it happening. Now, I am going to examine your throat. Say, ‘ah.’”

Given no time to recover from the information casually dropped on him, Jounouchi nevertheless managed a decent _aaaah_ as his tongue was held down by the little wooden stick and the light beamed down his throat. 

“Hm. They're high up. I can juuuust see them from here, no need for a laryngoscopy,” said Dr. Rui, pressing down a little harder while Jounouchi struggled not to gulp or bite, telling himself that the sooner they got it all over with the sooner he could leave. He made _plegh_ noises when she retreated, trying to shake the feeling of the depressor from his tongue. "The petals you've been coughing up—have they all been fresh? Or withering?"

Jounouchi had to think about it. He hadn't exactly been examining them all closely, if it all. "Not sure. Haven't looked at them that close, and they're all covered in gunk anyway."

Handing him a small plastic tub, Dr. Rui began adding something to her report as she spoke again. "Could you try coughing some up for me now?"

Jounouchi gave the tub an apprehensive look before dutifully attempting to hack his lungs out into it. He succeeded in managing a meagre clump of gunk-covered petals, and held them up to the light to examine with one eye screwed shut. They seemed wrinkly, but they had also been in his throat so that was kind of what you expected. No one went around coughing up fresh, immaculate blossoms in real life. 

Handing them over, he watched as Dr. Rui used pretty much the same examination technique he did. "Hmm," she mused, taking them over to the sink and slipped on a pair of gloves to wash them before reexamining. "At any rate, they're small and high up. Are you happy to have these sent for analysis? It is unlikely that we will find anything to help you specifically, but every sample is useful."

"Uh, yeah sure, I don't wanna keep them. 'Sides, I can just make more," he joked. 

Dr. Rui sealed the container and put it in a plastic bag with a paper label, which she scrawled on with a sudden burst of frantic activity as if possessed. "Well Mr. Jounouchi," she said as she set her pen down, the spirit of the infant artist leaving as quickly as it arrived, "I'm going to put you on phytoviralia, standard prescription: one injection every two weeks for three months, at which point we stop to see if the growth has stopped permanently."

Jounouchi nodded along to the explanation. He'd spent the past week reading what he could about the relatively new treatment option—not a drug, but an injected cocktail of plant viruses, designed to attack the hanahaki plant and stunt its growth, without harming the person. It couldn't kill the damn thing but it made the wait until it went away on its own easier. There had been a few medical articles Jounouchi could find that weren't behind paywalls, but almost nothing from people who'd taken it themselves. Jounouchi was still skeptical at the whole idea of treating a magic love disease with needles, but hell, it couldn't hurt to try. His old man had refused any kind of help, and look where that had gotten him. Jounouchi was not his father. 

Plus, he couldn't exactly risk coughing up petals all over Kaiba again now could he. He probably wouldn't get away with that twice. 

Shifting in his seat, Jounouchi's stomach still did an uncomfortable pretzel manoeuvre as he felt phantom vines crawling out of his throat with renewed vigor. "And whe—and _if_ it comes back?" he asked. 

"Then we try again. Cases vary. For some people it's over in a week. For others, it becomes a chronic condition," Dr. Rui explained in that matter of fact tone. Jounouchi couldn't decide if he appreciated or hated it. 

When he didn't respond for a few moments, the doctor paused, and gave him a brief look. "As for you, your breathing is not majorly impaired, and by your description your condition seems to be stabilizing at least," she added, voice slightly gentler than before. "I don't think you have to worry too much."

Not really taking in any of what was said to him, Jounouchi nodded again more to himself than to her. "Yeah, yeah. Do you do that here, or…?" 

Standing from her chair, Dr. Rui straightened her white coat and readjusted her glasses. "We can," she said, making her way to the door and pausing with her hand on the knob. "You can also do it yourself at home, if you are able to safely store the pre-filled syringes. They need to be kept refrigerated."

"I can just keep 'em in a regular fridge, right? Yeah, I'll do that."

The doctor nodded, and left Jounouchi in her office while she vanished to wherever they kept the goods. He occupied himself until she got back by twiddling his thumbs, restraining himself from going through her belongings out of bored curiosity, and craning his neck to try and see as many other offices as he could from the window. There wasn't much interesting to see, but Jounouchi was pretty sure his hormone doc's room was along this side of the building, and it'd be fun to shoot some finger guns at him if they spotted each other. He was probably the only doctor in the place who'd appreciate it. 

But Dr. Rui was not gone long, returning with an orange thermal bag of syringes, and an instruction for Jounouchi to tilt his head just a bit. 

"Sterilise the area first," she instructed, wiping a spot on his jugular with a cotton swab before setting the needle point against skin. "Try to get the angle around—"

"Yeah, yeah, pinch the skin, 45 degrees," Jounouchi huffed, wanting to just get it over with. "I know the drill."

"But apparently not the needle," Dr. Rui said sharply, holding a patch of skin on his neck flat between two fingers. "No pinching, and it's 90 degrees in this case. Now, if you're _quite_ ready."

There was a sudden bright, sharp sting as the needle went in. Jounouchi winced, partially in pain, but mainly out of embarrassment. "Sorry," he mumbled. "That was—stupid."

The doctor tutted at him as she began to press down on the plunger, pushing cold liquid into Jounouchi's neck. "Speaking over someone in a field they are trained in and you are not may hurt you more than them, Mr. Jounouchi—especially when that field is medicine," she told him blandly. "Remember to inject slowly, and do the injections in the order labelled. The viral mixture is changed on a cycle to stop the growth becoming resistant to any one strain."

"Right…" Jounouchi gulped around the lump in his throat as the chill seeped through his body. He blinked between the window, the paper notes fluttering around the monitors, before settling on his own fingers, gripping his knee. "You said—this stuff is for when it's not super severe, right?" he asked quietly, cold blooming in his neck. "What happens to the others? The—the people who can't breathe."

Injection apparently done, Dr. Rui delicately pulled the needle out and retreated. "Surgical removal is the last option," she explained stiffly, tossing the now defunct syringe in a hazardous waste bin. "It gets rid of the plants for a moment, but often harms the area they were growing in, and in every case where surgery is required they just grow back—often worse than before. Like keloid scars."

"Jeez," Jounouchi muttered, rubbing his throat where it had been stabbed. "So if I was seriously choking, I'd be fu—uuuuudged?"

Adjusting her coat as she settled back down at her desk, Dr. Rui raised a thin eyebrow at him. Jounouchi wondered if her and Kaiba had ever hung out. 

"You said no language," he huffed and raised his hands in surrender. "So just the injection thingy? I thought there was supposed to be some kind of pill now too."

"Not precisely. A small number of recovered patients have reported that various mental health treatments seemed to ease the symptoms, but medical trials have shown no evidence these weren't placebo effects. But it brings us to an additional suggestion." Dr. Rui paused. "Therapy."

" _Therapy?_ " Jounouchi blurted out. "As in like, a shrink?" 

"Yes, therapy as in psychotherapy," Dr. Rui confirmed with an impatient tone. "You are suffering from a disease that impacts your daily life, could potentially get worse, and as for its cause… well. Not all of hanahaki's effects are physical."

Jounouchi chewed his lip as he considered it. Medication he'd give a shot, even if it did sting his wallet, but paying to go to a stuffy stranger and flop down on a shitty couch every week? That wasn't going to do anything for him. Just be some old guy with a clipboard telling him stuff he already knew. ' _What's wrong with me doc?_ ' ' _You're stupid and gay._ ' ' _Damn, I've only been here two seconds._ ' ' _Years of training, Mr. Jounouchi, years of training._ ' He’d be better off talking to Kaiba of all people— _he_ gave his wisdom free of charge, and they already had each other scheduled in. And Jounouchi liked his couch. It was a good couch for flopping on. 

And hopefully Kaiba was better now. Jounouchi had texted the day after, asking how he was, but gotten no response. Was that not allowed? It was just a check-up text. Not like he was offering to bring him porridge or anything—although Kaiba had drunk that awful tea, so maybe he'd accept some awful porridge? Maybe he should take some over later. What would Kaiba think of his cooking? Jounouchi considered himself pretty good, despite his limited ability to cook without either constantly fiddling with whatever he was making, or completely forgetting he was cooking at all. What if he made something deliberately bad? Then he could pass it off as a joke, and Kaiba could get a kick out of making fun of him before they ordered in. 

“Mr. Jounouchi?” Dr. Rui’s voice tapped on the edge of his thoughts. 

“Hmm?” Jounouchi said absentmindedly, and then realised by the look on her face that she'd definitely been talking. "Sorry, sorry, didn't catch that."

"As I was _saying_ ," Dr. Rui said pointedly, "you can deal with payment for the phytoviralia at the pharmacy downstairs. I can also send you the details of some suitable therapists to your email, as well as a voluntary form to fill out and submit for the Research Foundation. I prefer not to ask these questions in person as they are extensive and personal. Do you have access to a computer at home?” 

Confirming that he had a laptop, Jounouchi carefully wrote his presentable non-work email address—jou.nouchi.katsu@docomo.ne.jp—on a pink sticky note, and Dr. Rui slapped it onto the paper lion’s mane her monitors were developing. She also made him a follow up appointment for three months away, and instructed him to come back sooner if his symptoms worsened. 

"But as I said, your condition seems stable," she told him, fingers once again clacking and clicking away. Just how much did she need to write about him? "The majority of patients with such cases recover quickly."

It was supposed to be a reassurance. "Really?" Jounouchi murmured. 

The clicking and clacking of the keyboard stopped. When he looked up at the silence, Jounouchi found Dr. Rui with her hands paused, giving him another one of those looks over her glasses. "You do not sound hopeful, Mr. Jounouchi."

"No, I'm—hopeful, I guess, s'not like I _want_ it or anything, but I just... " Jounouchi trailed off with a frustrated sigh, chewing at the inside of his lip. 

"Ah," said Dr. Rui. 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. It probably wasn't a long one, but Jounouchi felt like it was days, months, years; eons spent sitting in that mildly cushioned chair, elbows on the armrests and hands in his lap as, in time, long grasses and creeping vines overtook the doctor's office. He saw them climbing up the shelves, over the desk. A little purple bud flowering over the fingers of his left hand. They were everywhere, beautiful and inescapable and wrapping around his throat; restricting like chains, enveloping like the grave. Like an embrace. 

It wasn't like Jounouchi _wanted_ to be in love with Kaiba, of all people. It was all too much, too much at once. Around him, everything felt amplified, the good and the bad: misery, hope, hatred, affection. Jounouchi thought of that contemptuous sneer, that brusque, dismissive, ' _convenient,'_ and wanted to tear him limb from limb. Jounouchi thought of the smirk he got while dueling, the grimace he made at a bad pun, the slight curve of that almost-smile he did sometimes, and felt like he was glowing so bright he could explode from his skin. 

To feel so much for one person was insane, but Jounouchi couldn't even remember a time when he hadn't. It made no sense. He'd only gotten the disease a week ago, but he felt like he'd been holding this weight, this light, this _inferno_ in his chest for forever. He couldn't imagine it gone. 

"You should be aware, Mr. Jounouchi, that people tend to give biased reports when the subject matter is personal," Dr. Rui said slowly, pulling him out of the undergrowth. "Despite our advances in treatment, we still don't know how hanahaki works, or if unrequited romantic affection is truly the cause. Love is not something we can set into neat, distinct types, let alone quantify in any scientific way.”

“ _We_ don't need to,” Jounouchi pointed out. “Hanahaki already does it for us.” 

For a moment, Dr. Rui's eyes narrowed, and Jounouchi wondered if he was imagining pity in them. “There's no proof of that," she said firmly. "And if the notion of being sickened by unrequited love wasn't so deeply entrenched, then there may even have been proof to the contrary already. Three months, Mr. Jounouchi. Do consider talking to someone.”

Bristling, Jounouchi said his goodbye, took his thermal bag, and stomped out wondering how many other patients Dr. Rui had given that speech to. Reaching the hospital pharmacy and rummaging in his pockets for his health insurance card, Jounouchi wondered if anyone ever believed that bullshit. 'No proof.' Yeah right. What, was his dad's corpse not proof enough for anyone? He just dissolved his own liver for no reason then, did he? Coughing into a tissue, Jounouchi forced out a grin for the man at the counter as he thanked him and made his way out. 'No proof.' _Ha!_ It was Kaiba's old _magic isn't real_ record playing all over again. These people were supposed to be smart. 

Finally escaping the building, Jounouchi cracked his neck from side to side in the heavy yellow sun, and opened his phone to send a quick text to Yamagishi, asking for the morning of the follow up appointment off before he forgot. He was surprised to see an unread message from Kaiba. 

**Rich Bitch 🤑 🍆**  
Still ill. Do not come over today.  
[9:28] 

****damn u ok?  
[9:34]

Sticking his tongue between his teeth, standing motionless next to the sliding doors, Jounouchi wondered if he could get away with pushing it. Probably not. He'd try anyway. 

****yknow we culd just play card games n cuddle  
[9:38]

and u can buy me dinner obviously 😋  
[9:40]

  
Go scrounge somewhere else.  
[9:41] 

Yeah, that was about what he expected. 

Sighing, Jounouchi tucked his phone back in his pocket, before rubbing his neck where the shot had gone in. He still felt a phantom chill from the viral liquid, blossoming through his throat. No urge to cough, nothing forcing its way out. Maybe it was working already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry yes it is just a short exposition dump with jou being stupid and no kaiba action. how bout that attempt at magical realism hanahaki tho. (never understood that part of the trope where u stop being able to love the psn if u get the flower cut out. like, the flower is a symptom? not a cause? make it make sense)
> 
> anywho did i tell you my tumblr is [dominocity](https://dominocity.tumblr.com/)


	11. Barking Up the Wrong Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Barking up the wrong tree_ • To pursue a mistaken or misguided line of thought or course of action.

With the heavy press of early August squeezing sweat and disappointment from every pore, Jounouchi set about following his weekly Sunday list of errands. He trundled around the city taking a big fancy rug he’d been looking after back to its original owners, dipped into a phone store to see what the different display products felt like in his hands, did his grocery shopping. The second he got home, Jounouchi took great relief in dumping his shopping on a counter, stripping his sweat-soaked shirt off, and face-planting into the linoleum kitchen floor for a well deserved nap. 

Waking up half an hour later with a decidedly squished nose, he groaned and flung half-melted ice cream and a prayer into the freezer before going to properly collapse on his couch. He tucked himself under his weighted blanket, arranging himself to lie against the pillowed end with his laptop board—a hefty slab of plywood he'd found on the sidewalk, now covered in felt tip doodles—on his stomach. His email told him of the promised links from Dr. Rui in his inbox: the details of a few therapists in the area and an online form. When he clicked on the latter, it turned his scroll bar from a decent, comforting size into a miniscule blip, causing his brain to short out and fingers to exit the tab immediately. 

Absentmindedly scrolling through social media and news headlines instead, Jounouchi glumly contemplated the rest of his day. Nothing to do, nothing to do. He tried to focus on the positives. No Kaiba was a good thing, really. Distance might do him some good. He could spend the evening relaxing some other way; check out that drama Honda liked, see if he could get that indie game Yuugi mentioned, start phone hunting properly. Or—or he could go out on the town, meet people, like he kept telling everyone he was trying to do. Strike up a conversation with someone nice, someone fun, someone who appreciated being sent cute sheep videos and responded when Jounouchi texted to ask if they were okay. Someone who wouldn’t wrinkle their nose at his choice of bar or clothes, and probably vomit if they saw the state of his home. Someone actually interested in him. 

Jounouchi sank deeper into his pillows, automatically reaching behind for a tissue to cough into, more out of expectation than any pressing need. When he was done, there were two scrappy little petals in the flimsy white paper, a lot of phlegm, and that was all. 

He dropped the tissue onto the floor beside him. Maybe it had something to do with the amount of time spent with the person, he mused, like withdrawal from quitting a drug cold turkey. His parents had been together ten years, maybe that was why his dad had got it worse. If that was the case, if the phytoviralia didn't work Jounouchi would be looking forward to a flare up if he didn't see Kaiba that night. He'd been seeing him on an almost weekly basis since… fuck, since March, and it was August now. Half a year. 

Running a hand through his greasy hair, Jounouchi groaned at himself. The longest relationship he'd ever had. God, he was pathetic. At least, he thought wryly, it was probably Kaiba's longest too. Longest exclusive anyway. Unless Jounouchi wasn't his only hookup. They hadn't exactly agreed on anything like that. 

Jounouchi slapped his laptop lid shut with a forceful click, and sat motionless with his arms folded until it occurred to him he should probably put away the rest of the shopping. 

* * *

“Hey, this might sound like a weird question, but has Kaiba seemed off to you lately?” Yuugi asked out of the blue. 

Relaxed as he was in the comforting almost-dark, Jounouchi was caught off guard by the sudden question. “Huh?" he said, a popcorn kernel falling from his mouth as he twisted to look at his friend. 

On Jounouchi's other side, Honda hummed contemplatively. "Maybe dude's batteries are running low," he mused before chucking his own handful of popcorn in his mouth. 

The three friends sat near the front of the small theatre, cinema empty enough that none of them felt even remotely guilty for breaking the no-talking protocol during the ads, although Jounouchi had already gotten told off by Honda for tucking his feet up on his chair. As usual, they sat in the very front row so Yuugi didn't have to deal with anyone in front of him, and Honda slouched as low as he could so his unusually large frame didn't block the view of anyone behind. 

It didn't look like either would be an issue, though. The flick had been out a while, and the cinema was almost empty, even though it was Sunday. Jounouchi had no clue what it was about, and was pretty sure neither of the others did either. It had been Honda's suggestion, but he had a tendency to get all gung ho about watching things he'd seen some review of somewhere and retained no actual knowledge about. 

A smooth voiceover rumbled through the cinema. "Car," Honda added. 

"Honda, be serious," Yuugi chastised with an affronted look over his atomic slushie, guaranteed to give the drinker radioactive breath or at least a green tongue. The voiceover continued a speech about 'taking control' in low, gravely tones while images of mountains and high rises flashed on screen. "And it's clearly a bank."

Shifting uncomfortably, Jounouchi gave up patting around his sleeveless t-shirt for his fallen snack. "Well, what do you mean, 'off'? And I'm sayiiiing… cologne."

"Cologne? It's not horny enough." Yuugi tutted. "And I'm not sure. He just missed a regular call two weeks back without saying anything. He always says something."

The big screen commercial revealed itself to be for a savings account. Jounouchi and Honda groaned, and Yuugi took a brief break from worrying to preen at another win in What The Fuck Is That Advert For: The Game. 

"Ugh, how do you always _know_ ," Jounouchi complained, and sat up as the trailers started rolling. He loved the trailers. Like movies in bite size form. "Two weeks… he had a pretty rough cold then. Was probably just that," he said absentmindedly. 

Honda turned to give him a surprised look. 

" _What?_ " Jounouchi whinged at him. 

Yuugi shook his head. "That was what he said when I chased him up, but he just seemed… _off_." Frowning, he took a long slurp of nuclear ice. Jounouchi kept his eyes on the screen. 

Honda's hand paused mid-dive for the popcorn in Jounouchi's lap. "He's got the Grand Prix coming up in like, three months, right? Plus all the other company shit. Maybe it's work stress. Work stress and flu." 

"If it was about work I wouldn't get a word in edgeways." In his peripheral, Jounouchi saw Yuugi shake his head again. "He _did_ manage a rant about Pegasus though. Maybe I'm reading into things."

"Well, there you go. Pegasus hit on him and got him sick, so he was pissed. No story there," Jounouchi shrugged, picking at a spot on his fraying jorts. 

" _Hit_ on him?" Yuugi startled. "He didn't say anything about that."

Honda too was still giving Jounouchi an incredulous look. "And since when do _you_ hang out with Kaiba?" 

"Uh, for a few months?" Jounouchi tried to say dismissively, rubbing his throat. "Anyway, he got him these fancy hakuto jellies? All special like. Super tasteful. Flew 'em out from here to give to him there and everything."

"Tasteful?" Yuugi's currently green and purple bangs twitched with intrigue. "That doesn't sound like Pegasus." 

"I dunno, sounds like something a rich prick would do to me… " Honda trailed off, furrowing his brow in deep contemplation. 

Shifting his leg, Jounouchi slowly detached the sole of his sneaker from a sticky patch on the floor with a disgusting squelch, before putting his foot back down on it. Rinse, repeat, uncomfortably aware of his friends watching him the whole time. 

"He did look pretty bad though," Jounouchi admitted after a moment's silence, watching action flow in slap dash cuts across the screen. "Like a guy from uh… what's that director Ryou likes so much?” He snapped his fingers three times to try and remember. “The American."

He was expecting Yuugi to answer, but after a few seconds’ silence Honda took up the mantle. "Ed Wood?" 

"No, not him," Jounouchi waved him off. "The still alive one."

"...Tim Burton," Yuugi said quietly. 

"Yeah, that one!" Jounouchi swatted Yuugi on the arm. "Like a Tim Burton character. All spindly and pale with shadows around the eyes." Jounouchi considered his statement. "Which he usually is, but worse." 

Honda snorted in agreement, but when Yuugi didn't respond in any way, Jounouchi turned to find him staring ahead with a blank, unfocused look that Jounouchi was fairly sure suited himself better. 

"Hey," he whispered, nudging his friend gently with an elbow. "What's up?" 

After a second, Yuugi unfoze, slumping back into his seat with a blink. "I think… I think we might be breaking up," he said quietly. "Ryou and me."

Jounouchi's mouth dropped open, and he felt Honda shift abruptly behind him and his popcorn bag fall to the floor even as Yuugi slowly went back to slurping his slushie. The last time he'd seen them together they'd been great, all wrapped up in each other and happy as pigs in swill. 

"Shit," Honda exclaimed, then reached over the frozen Jounouchi to give Yuugi's shoulder a squeeze. Yuugi patted it with a weak smile. "What's going o—" 

"The _hell?_ " Jounouchi blurted out. "You've been going for like… shit, since high school ended! You're way into each other!" 

"You think I don't know that?!" Yuugi snapped at him with narrowed eyes, making him jump back in surprise. "Trust me Jou, I'm aware!" 

"So what's the problem?" Jounouchi knew in the back of his head he should be being sympathetic, supportive, but somehow he just felt mad. 

"Excuse me! The movie's starting!" a polite but clearly irritated voice called from behind, cutting off whatever Yuugi's response might have been. "Could you keep it down now?" 

Jounouchi was about to turn around and tell them to fuck off when Honda shook him roughly. " _Jou._ Snap out of it, the fuck's gotten into you," he hissed, before leaning over his lap. "Yuugi—what's going on? You can't drop that and then not say anything!"

"I—the movie's starting."

" _Fine_ , not _now_ ," Honda whispered with a huff. "Later. After this, we'll get drinks, and you're gonna tell us what's up. Alright?" 

Yuugi blinked owlishly. "Alright."

Honda turned his head to glare expectantly at Jounouchi. "Alright?" 

"Alright," Jounouchi mumbled with a nod. 

The three friends slowly sat back into their seats with the sounds of the cinema echoing around them: the actors speaking on screen, music, sound effects, someone behind them crunching on chips. Jounouchi ran the sole of his shoe over his mess spilt popcorn to feel it roll around the floor, gentle enough not to crush any. 

A few minutes in, he leaned slightly to his right. "Hey," he whispered to Yuugi, "I'm sorry. That was a dick move."

"Yeah," Yuugi agreed quietly. "I shouldn't've snapped at you either."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame you. I'm just worried, man. You gotta tell us what's going on." 

Jounouchi pulled his knees up to rest his feet on his seat, and Honda didn't scold him this time. Next to him, Yuugi was sitting on a balled up coat, but still slouched down so far Jounouchi doubted he could see a thing. "It's just…" he trailed off, biting his lip. "It's no one's fault, but it just…" 

"... Really fucking sucks?" Jounouchi suggested. 

Yuugi gave a little laugh. "Yeah, that works," he said, leaning to rest his head on Jounouchi's shoulder. "Really fucking sucks." 

Settling his own head down against his friend's, Jounouchi didn't say anything else for the rest of the film, but he didn't really take any of it in. He doubted Yuugi did either. 

Even by the time the three friends were drifting out of the cinema, it wasn't six o'clock yet, but the izakayas of Domino City were never closed anyway. It didn't take long to find a hole-in-the-wall type place, glowing with a low yellow light that made the blank walls feel warm rather than dull, steam already wafting from the open kitchen behind the bar and curling about low wooden ceiling beams. Yuugi led the way to where they could have a corner spot all to themselves, and together they shucked their shoes off, sat at the kotatsu-style table, and got the evening started. 

Sunday evening, that was. While Yuugi slipped off to the toilet and Honda gave the marinated squid otoshi they'd been served on little square plates a visual inspection, Jounouchi slid his phone out as subtly as he could for a quick check. No cancellation text. No anything. _Go scrounge somewhere else_ glared dully at him through a broken screen. 

"What's got _you_ in the dumps?" Honda asked suddenly through a mouthful of appetizer, muscular form hunched over the table and delicately holding the little plate up to his mouth. 

Jounouchi startled guiltily as Yuugi got back. "Nothin', just thinking it's time to replace this old girl," he lied, swallowing and brandishing his ancient, cracked phone. This was supposed to be about helping his friend, not throwing himself a pity party over his own stupidity. "But I hate tech hunting. It's so complicated, like, why do they have so much… _stuff_ _?_ There's so much techno-babble! How am I supposed to know what it all means!?"

"You're not," Yuugi said idly as beer and snack dishes were placed in front of them, Honda giving their server a quick thanks. "It's mostly 'quasi-meaningful jargon, written with more intent towards boosting sales than informing the user.'" He shrugged. "Kaiba’s words."

Jounouchi blinked. "...Right," he said, and then jammed his own squid in his mouth only to wince at the overpowering saltiness. 

"Alright!" Honda interrupted with a booming clap before picking up his beer and holding it aloft. "We got booze, om-noms, and two hours before they kick us out. Yuugi, you do the honors." 

Nodding, Yuugi took his own mug, Jounouchi followed suit, and there was that trusty clink of glass when they all knocked their beers together. 

"Cheers," Yuugi solemnly decreed, and they all took their first, long gulp. 

* * *

Jounouchi had known that Ryou's work involved a great deal of traveling abroad, so much that he was out of town more often than not, and he'd known that it caused a bit of strain—how could it not?—but they'd always seemed so happy with each other when they were together. He'd never really considered how distressing it might be. 

"...and lately he's been dropping these _hints_ ," Yuugi worried, eyes wide and words getting higher and higher pitched the more he spoke, brandishing a yakitori wildly in his hand. 

" _Hints?_ " Honda and Jounouchi repeated in a simultaneous exclamation, eyes wide with alarm. 

"Hints!" Yuugi took an enormous, fretful bite of marinated chicken. It had been a long time since Jounouchi had seen Yuugi this worked up about something. He was usually so calm and collected no matter what bullshit life was throwing at him. It was disconcerting. "Like this morning, I said that I missed him, he made this… this _sigh_ when he said it back…" 

Honda gasped and leaned forward, face wrought with horror. "A _sigh?"_ he stressed. "What kind of sigh?"

Frowning, Jounouchi blinked uneasily between them. "A… sigh? That can't tell you much, can it?"

"Oh yeah, it can," Honda nodded frantically. "You date someone for long enough, a sigh can tell you everything." 

"Guess I wouldn't know," Jounouchi mumbled. 

Yuugi too nodded emphatically. "I know Ryou, I _know_ him. It was a sad one. I could tell. I _can_ tell." Half-eaten yakitori sinking to the table, Yuugi's gaze went with it. Jounouchi thought he had never looked smaller. "I'm _always_ going to be able to tell," he said quietly. 

Well, fuck. "Damn it!" Jounouchi hissed, and slammed both hands on the table, making both his friends jump and all their plates and now empty glasses shudder in distress. He wanted to punch someone. This wasn't _fair._ "You're—you're just gonna give up then? Because of a fucking _sigh?_ " 

"Of course I'm not!" Yuugi whirled up to face him, nowhere near as shrunken as he glared right back, and suddenly Jounouchi felt like he himself was the tiny one. "I'm not stupid! It's not about the sigh!" 

"Then what's it about?!" Jounouchi argued, slapping Honda away when his friend tried to grab him by the shoulder. He waved his hands furiously. "You like him, he likes you!"

"It's not enough, Jou!" Yuugi flung back. "I love him, but he's never here, and we're not _happy."_

Struck dumb, Jounouchi had no idea what to say to that. A quiet sank over their low table, settling with a flutter like a sheet of gauze, the chatter of other patrons and the clattering of the open kitchen distant and muted behind the thin fabric. 

"I want it to work," Yuugi said with a forced steadiness, "but I can't leave Grandpa here by himself, and I can't ask Ryou to give up his career. He said he'd been thinking about the future, the next stage in his life, and maybe… maybe it would be for the best. " 

For some reason, that made Honda perk up. "'Next stage?'" he repeated, focusing Yuugi's forlorn face like a dog focuses on food that it's not allowed to eat. "He said that?" 

"Yeah." Yuugi picked up his beer mug and stared at the dregs. "We _are_ thirty now. Maybe I should grow up."

Jounouchi didn't like to pay much attention to things like social etiquette and propriety. They were weird to think about. When he was a kid he hadn't ignored them, exactly, or deliberately flouted them, it just hadn't often occurred to him to give them much thought. As an adult, things were different. But there was one rule about public behavior he found himself at odds with more than any other, and it took Jounouchi less than a second to flout it by getting up, shuffling over to where his best friend sat cross legged on his side of the table, and wrapping him up in a hug. Yuugi deserved the world. Failing that, a hug would have to do. 

"I'm sorry," Jounouchi told him. "You—you deserve better than this _shit_."

" _Next stage…_ " Honda repeated to himself. "Guys?" 

Yuugi turned to bury his face in Jounouchi's shoulder and hug him back. Jounouchi briefly pondered how much easier this was without the spikes. "It's not _fair_ ," he moaned, muffled into his top. "I miss him. I already have other people I have to miss, why him too?"

"Guys?" Honda said again, louder this time.

"Yeah…" Jounouchi agreed, stroking his hair. Once upon a time, it had felt like their group could never split apart, not by magic, not by ancient Egyptian cults or digitalised corporate scumbags. But all good things came to an end. Atem had just been the first to move on. 

It felt wrong to think it, but Jounouchi missed Anzu the most. He missed her bossy attitude and habit of whacking him in the arm over nothing. 

" _Guys!_ " Honda yelled across the table. 

Yuugi and Jounouchi jumped simultaneously, looking over to see their friend somehow managing to bounce on the balls of his feet while sitting cross legged on the floor. 

"What time is it where Ryou is right now?" Honda demanded. 

"Uh," Yuugi got out his phone and squinted at it. "Ten past eleven in the morning?" 

"Right. Oh—wow, I said I'd call Jingyi around now!" Honda startled himself dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "I'd better step outside!" 

"Why're you talking so loud?" Jounouchi winced as Honda got to his feet and headed out, large movements clumsy with haste. "Fine, go, call your boyfriend. Not like we're in a crisis here or anything."

"No more beer without me, you hear!" Honda yelled behind him before vanishing through the door. 

"He didn't put his shoes on?" Yuugi questioned blearily. "And didn't he break up with Jingyi?" 

Jounouchi jerked his shoulders in a robotic shrug. "Maybe it's another Jingyi," he mused. "Or they got back together. It must be his boobs. They're too powerful. They lure everyone in." Ugh. Jounouchi missed Kaiba's boobs. They weren’t like, Honda level for technical perfection, but they were soft and he didn't get to play with them much seeing as he and Kaiba never did much foreplay. 

A surprised giggle bubbling out of Yuugi dragged Jounouchi from his thoughts. "And to defeat him, you have to climb up like in _Shadow of the Colossus_ and stab them." He craned his head to look around the room, beginning to truly fill up with patrons now. "You know what? I think I'm going to get drunk."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I deserve it. Excuse me, could we get… three hoppy sets? Thanks."

* * *

"It's not _fair_. Anzu's in America. Honda lives in Tokyo. Atem's just— _gone_. It's just you, me, and Kaiba here now. And you're—you're both great, and I love you, but you're not… Ryou gets me, you know? And I get him. We connect. Is that selfish? Am I selfish?" 

"Hell fucking _no_ you're not, Yuug' you're like, the most selfless person I know."

"Fuck, I just feel so _stupid_ , Jou. I didn't even know him for a year, a single year, and now it's been fourteen of them and he's there every time I look in the mirror. He was in my head, then he gave me a thumbs up, and he was gone and I don't… I don't want to be left behind again."

* * *

Jounouchi was mentally weighing the pros and cons of hunting Ryou down and beating the shit out of him (pros: he'd feel better if he could punch the guy for hurting Yuugi; cons: Yuugi wouldn't want him to, and any satisfaction would get cancelled out by the fact that it was _Ryou_ ) when Honda burst from the bustling crowd with a _pop,_ slammed into the side of the table, yelped out an _ow!_ at his now no doubt bruised shins, and collapsed back into his seat. 

" _You_ took your time," Jounouchi grumbled at him, not bothering to wait for Yuugi's lead as he took another sip. 

"Haha, yeah, took a while to get thr— _hey_ , I _said no more drinks while I was gone!"_

"No, you said no more _beer_ ," Yuugi said smartly and Jounouchi sniggered to himself. Shōchū and hoppy was not a drink he sampled often, and even after just half an (admittedly pretty big) glass he was feeling a little out of it. 

"Smartass… whatever," Honda shook his head. "Hey, didn't you have something you wanted to show us? On your phone?" 

"Did I?" Yuugi looked quizzically at nothing. 

"Just get out your damn phone, dude."

The moment he said it, the sound of Rammstein blared from Yuugi’s pocket. His phone. 

Slowly, he took it out. Two roaring bars went by with the three sitting still as grass as Yuugi stared at his screen. 

"You should answer that, man," Honda advised.

With a shaking hand, Yuugi tapped his screen once, brought the phone up to his ear, and slowly got up. "Hey, Ryou," he murmured, walking away from the table. "I'm just heading to where I can hear you better, okay? Okay…" 

Shifting his gaze back to Honda, bewilderment and anger swirled around Jounouchi’s head. "The fuck are you so pleased with yourself for?" he hissed, because for some, inexplicable reason, Honda was practically vibrating with excitement. "Yuug's about to get his heart mashed like potato and you're _grinning?"_

Honda beamed. "No he's not."

The gears cranked slowly in Jounouchi's head, their motions causing little twinkling ripples. "He's not?" 

With a smug little wiggle of his wide shoulders, Honda poured his own hoppy into his shōchū. "No," he repeated, raising his glass. "He's not." 

Jounouchi watched him drink with his own mouth hanging open, looking back and forth between him and the door through which Yuugi had disappeared. 

After sipping, Honda put both his elbows on the table and let out a sigh. "Did you know that on average, people who get married here do it at thirty?" he said wistfully, propping his chin on his hands. "I wanna get married."

Turning back to the table, Jounouchi stared at it for a moment. All their little plates stared back, food pupils and irises and porcelain whites against a dark, polished void. "Well, you'd look good in the dress," he huffed, reaching for his own glass. 

"Hell yeah I would," Honda grinned. 

Jounouchi wasn't sure how many minutes later it was, but they managed to clear another round of small plates before Yuugi ran back in. Tears in his eyes and an uncontrollable laughter cascading from his mouth, he flung himself at his friends with his arms wide, repeating that he'd been wrong, he'd been so, _so_ wrong. 

Ryou didn't want to break up. Quite the opposite. They weren't talking about marriage—that wasn't even legal in Japan yet, anyway—but getting their own place together, where Yuugi could still see his Grandpa when he needed to and Ryou would stay more permanently than he had been? There was nothing stopping them from that. 

"You know, I don't remember meeting him?" Yuugi laughed into his hands once he'd managed to stop hugging and crying, drunk on happiness and a celebratory round of… something. Jounouchi wasn't sure what they were, but they were green and sugary enough to make his teeth hurt. "I can remember everyone else. I remember Anzu asking what I was playing with in elementary school. I remember you—" 

"Being a dick?" Jounouchi suggested. 

"Yep!" Yuugi nodded, with a fond smile Jounouchi didn't think he deserved. "First day of senior high, wiping boogers on the underside of your desk. I offered you a tissue. You panicked and told me to get lost."

Honda groaned and gave Jounouchi a plaintive look. "C'mon man, I was the one who had to clean those little green dudes off!"

"That's why I was doing it," Jounouchi admitted. "That and I didn't have tissues."

Yuugi started laughing again even as Honda glared. "Asshole," he muttered over the rim of his glass. "Why the hell did I stay friends with you…" 

Jounouchi stopped himself from saying "I don't know." He'd been such an asshole back then, to Honda especially. The one guy who'd always had his back. He'd never get why Honda had stayed looking out for him through everything. No one deserved to have to deal with his bullshit, not now and not then. 

"Point _is_ ," Yuugi continued, "I don't remember meeting Ryou. Isn't that weird? It's like he's always been there. And now we're going to argue over curtains and laundry and things!" Flapping his hands wildly with excitement, flushed across the cheeks, Yuugi clearly couldn't be happier at the prospect. "I can't believe he was _nervous_ about asking me…" 

"People get stupid when they're in love," Honda said sagely, stuffing two potato croquettes in his mouth at once. 

"Hmm. Must be why you're stupid all the time," Jounouchi said without any real thought. 

"Yeah, but _you_ have no excuse."

Bursting into cackles again, Yuugi rubbed tears from his rosy red cheeks. He'd always been a giggly drunk. " _Have_ you ever been in love, Jou?" he asked once his fit was over, propping his head up on one hand with a woozy expression. 

Jounouchi blinked slowly as the question echoed around inside his head, _love, love, love,_ bouncing off the walls and fading over the water. Kaiba would find that funny. It implied his head was empty. Jounouchi snorted, and all the liquid in his cave-skull sloshed around. 

"Don't laugh!" Yuugi said indignantly. "I know you don't really date people. Not like me or Honda anyway. But… I don't know. Have you?" 

The plain brown walls of the izakaya were just slightly more textured than they should've been. They weren't swirling, but the hissing steam from the kitchen seemed to be gently coaxing the plain surfaces to try and dance. Watching them, Jounouchi had to really concentrate on thinking it over. His head felt ludicrously heavy for something with nothing in it. The now ever-present lump in his throat seemed to pulse but do nothing else. 

"I don't know," he said eventually, and was surprised by how honest that answer felt. 

Lifting his head off his palm, Yuugi's eyebrows quirked into a wrinkle of confusion, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, there was a clearing of a throat up above. Their two hours were up, and the three were politely told to either pay for another two or scram. They went with scram. 

Doing their best to pick themselves up, they rolled out back onto the darkened street like three bowling balls, bumping each other as they spun slowly down the aisle and narrowly missed the people-pins outside, landing in the gutter with a clatter and a sad little jingle. Well, Jounouchi landed in the gutter, but in his defence there had been a great deal of nothing on the sidewalk, and he couldn't be blamed for tripping over it. 

Honda hauled him back up like a misbehaving cat. "You okay man?" he asked, checking over Jounouchi's face. "Don't need me to walk you home, do you?" 

Rolling his eyes, Jounouchi rubbed his arms where he'd caught himself. "Relax mom, m'fine," he assured him. "'Sides, you're staying at Yuug's, m'not making you come out into the boonies for my accident-prone ass."

"It's not even eight yet, you don't have to go home," Yuugi suggested. "We can all play something at mine."

"Yeah! Unless you've got somewhere else to be," Honda joked. 

Jounouchi laughed, and was about to agree, when something hit him. Sunday. Eight PM. Somewhere to be.

"Uh, Jou?" Honda prodded as Jounouchi scrambled to get his phone out, panic setting off in laps around his hollow skull, kicking the liquid inside everywhere. "Jou?" 

**Rich Bitch** 🤑 🍆  
You're late.  
[19:31]

"Jou?" 

_Fuck._

"Guys, I—Kaiba— _fuck_ I gotta run," Jounouchi managed to babble out, panic now joined by horror, the two happily joining hands and dancing around his head, feet stamping down on him with every rapid step. "I'm gonna be late— _fuck!_ " 

Realisation inexplicably dawned on Yuugi too. "Oh shit, you were gonna see Kaiba?" 

It was strange how despite the blood and alcohol rushing around Jounouchi’s brain, that single sentence managed to slice right through it all. " _How do you know about that?!_ " Jounouchi shrieked. 

Yuugi looked bemused. "You said his name?" 

"Always such a drama queen about that guy." Honda sniggered and pinched Jounouchi's ear, prompting him to wriggle away. "Man, you had _such_ a crush in high school."

" _What?!_ " It was Yuugi's turn to be dumbfounded, eyes suddenly big as planets, hurtling around the solar system to stare at Jounouchi like he'd grown a second head. "You had a _crush_ on _Kaiba?_ " 

"You didn't notice?" Honda answered before Jounouchi could get a word in. "The man wasn't subtle."

"I can't notice everything!" Yuugi spluttered. "Especially back then! There was so much going on and Atem was in the front for a lot of it!" 

"He was _obsessed._ "

"I was _not!"_ Jounouchi lied in a spluttering attempt to save his dignity. 

"Was too." 

"Was not!" 

"Was too!" 

"Was—" Jounouchi's phone screen lit up and distracted him from the rigorous intellectual debate. 

**Rich Bitch 🤑 🍆** **  
** I am anticipating a response. Do I need to put up lost dog posters?  
[19:45] 

" _Fine!"_ Jounouchi screeched. "Maybe I am! I hate you!" Stuffing his phone in his back pocket, Jounouchi seized his friends in a hug that would have whacked their skulls together if they hadn't had a height difference of over a foot. "I'm going! I love you both! Bye!" 

Releasing them, Jounouchi spun around and lurched into a sprint to the nearest metro, ignoring the yelling of his name behind him, doing his best to type a response while running. Deijiku station wasn't far, and from there he could go to Dōsaku Street, then he could either have a longish run to Kaiba's or go a bit further and have a shorter run back. Doable. Totally doable. Jounouchi was _not_ a flaker. 

ik on my way eill 

_Thunk._

" _Fuck!"_ Jounouchi yelled as he staggered away from an inconveniently placed street lamp. Taking a brief moment to kick it and then double over in pain, Jounouchi set off again, weaving around the people who suddenly seemed to all be in his way; businessmen, mothers with prams, hordes of teens, all conspiring to block the path. 

ik on my way eillbe there in 15 i tjink  
[Sending…] 

Deijiku station was a colourful hub, half the lines in Domino passing through its noodle network of rails piled on top of each other. Jounouchi battered through the barrier and legged it past mosaic walls of flower fields, in too much of a hurry to laugh at them. He wiggled through the crowd on the platform to try and be as far along the carriages as possible when the train arrived. Make the next run slightly shorter. 

ik on my way eillbe there in 15 i tjink  
[Error: message not sent]

A ping from Jounouchi's network told him he was out of credit. Of all the fucking times. At least he could use data for free to top up. 

**Rich Bitch 🤑 🍆**  
I have a low tolerance for this kind of fuck around, deadbeat  
[19:50]

"Oh, fuck off," Jounouchi muttered, jabbing at his phone. Was Kaiba a fucking mob boss? Yeah, Jounouchi knew this probably didn't look good from the other side, but did Kaiba have to be such a fucking ass about it? Wasn't like he'd kidnapped his brother or anything. 

ik on my way eillbe there in 15 i tjink  
[19:52]

quit bein a jerkoff  
[19:53]

Jounouchi thunked his already throbbing forehead against the pole he was clinging to. As usual, the train was packed tighter than Kaiba’s pants, but Jounouchi glanced up from his phone to find that people were managing to edge away from him anyway. 

He could just go home. Kaiba was clearly pissed, and it wasn't like Jounouchi had been dusted with magic pollen and would die if he didn't get a dick in him. Hell, after the drama with Yuugi he was more in the mood to just watch some shitty TV and pass out. 

But he hadn't seen Kaiba in two weeks. 

He missed him. 

**Rich Bitch 🤑 🍆** ****  
Fine  
[19:54]

Even if he _was_ a prick. 

Jounouchi decided to get off at the earlier stop and run. The whole thing was more strenuous exercise than he'd had in a while, and he was panting heavily by the time he was staggering through the glass door at the base of Kaiba's fancy apartment tower, giving a salute to the doorman who'd seen him so many times he just rolled his eyes. 

Kaiba didn't answer the door immediately. Jounouchi contented himself by leaning his forehead against the wood, knocking out the rhythm to _PPAP_ , and giggling. Now that he'd reached his destination, head thudding from various abuses and body sagging with exhaustion and relief, everything seemed incredibly funny. Especially when Kaiba opened the door and Jounouchi found himself pitching right into him. 

"Will you— _oomph!"_

He was caught before he could topple them both over, fingers stabbing into each shoulder like talons into a mouse. Kaiba's hands. He'd missed those. He'd also fallen right into Kaiba's collar, and he nosed up to bury his face in his neck. Turtlenecks in summer, _honestly_. Jounouchi still felt his breath hitch when he nuzzled at his covered jugular. 

He wrapped his arms around Kaiba's waist. "Hey," he mumbled into soft fabric. There was a squeaky meow from below. Saggi winding around their ankles, purring.

Kaiba's grip on Jounouchi's shoulders loosened, but didn't move. He didn't say anything, or hug back, but that was fine. Sighing, Jounouchi just enjoyed being against his chest, feeling the rise and fall breath and the thump of his heart. _Bumpbumpbumpbump_. Felt like he'd had a coffee. 

It was nice, just to hold him like that. They'd never hugged before. 

"We should hang out more," Jounouchi continued dreamily. He felt all warm and loose. "Us four."

When Kaiba did speak, it was so quiet Jounouchi barely heard him. "Us… four?" 

"Yeah," Jounouchi nodded, squishing them closer together. "You, me, your tits." He giggled. "I wanna suck on them."

_Bumpbumpbumpbump._

Jounouchi found himself shoved back, and stumbled back into the doorframe with a grunt. "Ow."

"Did you hit your head while you were chasing tail on the way here?" Kaiba hissed. 

Picking himself up, Jounouchi got his first good look at Kaiba's face in two weeks. Brows drawn down to wrinkle the bridge of his nose, upper lip drawn up in a sneer, he didn't seem very happy to see him. There was probably something wrong with Jounouchi for thinking he looked very pretty like that. There was a light pink tinge on his cheeks, like a sunset reflecting off whitewall. 

"Yup!" Jounouchi answered proudly. "And it's chasing _your_ tail. Or my tail. Or _your_ your tail? Yours is the tail I'm chasing." 

He raked his eyes over Kaiba's body. Long, boney; a collection of sharp angles, all strung out into a man. Nice ass. Well, not really, but Jounouchi liked it. No tail though, even if Kaiba _was_ kind of a cat sometimes. Bitey. Soft. He might look cute with the little pointy ears. And other shit Jounouchi had seen on the internet. 

"Y'know, you'd look hot in a maid outfit," he babbled.

"Wh—I—" Words seemed to completely fail Kaiba for a moment, his mouth moving with no sound coming out. The dusting across his cheekbones deepened from pink to red. Jounouchi wondered if that meant agreement. 

Then Kaiba clenched his jaw harder. "Have you eaten?" he ground out. 

"Huh?" Jounouchi blinked. "Oh, yeah, had loads—" 

"I do not _care_ ," Kaiba enunciated precisely, slicing Jounouchi's words away from him and advancing closer, "what you had. I _care_ about my time being wasted by your dazzling penchant for fucking around."

Unable to back away, good mood plummeting, Jounouchi glared up into Kaiba's face. It had been two weeks since he had seen the skinny stretch of marble but a month since they'd last had sex. Despite everything, just being near the bastard was making him feel all hot.

"Hey, listen up, asshole, we ha—" 

"I _said_ I _don't care,_ " Kaiba hissed, hot breath spitting from his mouth. It smelt tangy. "I don't care what you had, or where you have been, or who with. What you do in your own time is your prerogative. But I will _not_ sit here _waiting_ for you while you— _ugh!_ " 

Cutting himself off with a frustrated, high pitched sound, Kaiba spun on his heel and marched back into his apartment, leaving Jounouchi cold behind him. "And close the door behind you," he shouted behind him. 

Nodding mutely, head thumping, Jounouchi swung the front door shut and undid his laces for once before slipping out of his sneakers. He followed the usual path through the main room in a daze, not really registering the half empty bottle and single glass sitting on the table. Kaiba had walked right past them and up the stairs anyway. Right to it then. There wasn’t even a rude comment on the holes in his sleeveless t-shirt. 

By the time Jounouchi made it to Kaiba’s bedroom, he'd already set the light close to nothing. When Jounouchi kissed him, kissed him again, licked his tongue and drank in the noise he made, the one Jounouchi never stopped dreaming about, he tasted that dark, hot tang he'd smelt earlier. 

When Jounouchi ran his hands under his sweater, moving to help get it off, he was shoved back again. 

"Down," Kaiba ordered. 

Definitely something wrong with him, Jounouchi thought, a moan being torn from his ragged throat. Kaiba's cock, wet with his own saliva and slick, rubbed fiercely hard and fast between his squeezed together thighs. Something deeply wrong with him, twisting his hips to chase that inferno high. His body felt like melting wax, molten and loose and dripping from flame, head swimming from the smooth friction, from Kaiba's hands holding his hips steady. Jounouchi's own hands gripped the headboard. Whenever he tried to touch Kaiba, he was swatted away. He'd never taken his sweater off. The soaked fabric scraped at Jounouchi's back. 

Jounouchi had already come twice, once touching himself when Kaiba came down his throat and once just from Kaiba's dick rubbing against him. He still goaded and whined as Kaiba's lips and teeth ran along his shoulders, until his right hand slipped from Jounouchi's hip to drag fingers through the mess before rubbing in circles. 

It wasn't enough. Swearing in frustration, one of Jounouchi's hands flew down from gripping the bed frame, down to press the head of Kaiba's cock against his own erection and grind them together. Touching each other, their hands bumping, Jounouchi shook as his orgasm wracked through him. Kaiba's left hand flew from his hip to wrap around his waist like a vine, and when they came together, come mixing in a splatter between Jounouchi's thighs, it felt so stupidly, horribly, blissfully right. 

As they sat there afterwards, collapsed on each other and panting in sync, their right hands still touched. Jounouchi tilted his head back so that their cheeks brushed, and pressed his lips against Kaiba's jaw. The arm wrapped around him tightened. He could feel his heartbeat, thudding out a tripping baseline against his back. 

Jounouchi's head thudded too. "Fuck, I need an aspirin," he groaned. 

Slowly, mechanically, Kaiba detached himself from Jounouchi's body. Jounouchi imagined him leaving stinging little pinprick ivy marks all across his skin. "In the bathroom," he said tonelessly. 

"Thanks…" Exhausted, Jounouchi slumped down into Kaiba's pillows, rolling onto his back with his knees drawn up. "I really did hit my head on the way here, y'know," he mumbled, poking at a growing bruise before leaving his hand over his eyes. The melting wax heat still tingled around his body, head spinning, exhausted, satisfied and not-satisfied. He wished Kaiba would lie down with him. "Was trying to text you while running. Ran right into a lamp post. You'd have laughed."

There was a dip in the mattress beside him. Jounouchi startled when felt a hand delicately brushing his hair aside and pressing the tender skin. He sucked in a hiss between his teeth at the flare of pain, and the pressure immediately vanished. It did nothing to stop his head from spinning. 

"You are… incomparable, Jounouchi," Kaiba murmured. 

Shifting his hand a little, Jounouchi peeked up at Kaiba with one eye. Light behind him in the almost-dark, shadows hung like a veil over the contours of his face. His hand still hovered over Jounouchi's forehead. 

"'S'that good or bad?" Jounouchi asked. 

There was no response. 

The mattress shifted again, and in a swift blink of an eye Jounouchi was alone, watching Kaiba pull his underwear back on. "There are bruise plasters on the shelf below the aspirin. I have work to do. You will clean yourself up, treat your head, and leave."

Jounouchi watched skin disappear behind wrinkled fabric, feet slip into house shoes. "Okay," he said quietly. 

"In the future, you will eat before you arrive here," Kaiba continued in the same blank tone. "If like tonight you find yourself… occupied, you will cancel in advance." 

"I…" Jounouchi could feel the mess on his skin drying. "Yeah, alright."

"Alright," Kaiba repeated, and the word sounded wrong coming from his mouth. It didn't fit right. "Yes. Alright."

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Jounouchi didn't watch as Kaiba padded away. 

"Yuugi and Ryou are gonna get a place together," he found himself confessing. 

The footsteps paused. 

"Yuugi thought they were gonna break up, and now they're moving in together," Jounouchi continued, staring at the blank space overhead. "Honda had to fix 'em up. One minute Yuugi's crying all over the place, the next he won't stop laughing. It's bonkers. Happy for them an' all, but you'd think they'd think twice after a mess up like that."

There were no cracks, no damp spots in the plaster above. "They'd prob'ly be getting hitched if it was legal. Makes me feel old," Jounouchi continued idly. No imperfections, no nothing. "Think you'll ever do that?" Just smooth— "Settle down." —endless— "Get married." _—perfect_ dark. 

"...Get out of my house, mutt," Kaiba said tiredly. 

Jounouchi didn't move, listening to his steps down the hall, not until they were cut off by the click of a shutting door. By the time he was clean, painkiller taken and bandaid cooling his forehead, Kaiba had not re-emerged from his study. On his way out, Jounouchi looked around to say goodbye to Saggi, but the cat was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -when honda was a kid and people asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, his answer was 'a husband'  
> -[this is the song jou was knocking out on kaiba's door](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ct6BUPvE2sM)
> 
> i promise we will get to things happening at some point slhdjgfshjdgf


End file.
